Please come
And let me see you,
O, contractor of tolerance.
What do you mean
By the word tolerance
That I know here.
Where is your head
And what is your intention
That also I know.
You are there to
Catch fish on the top
Of that dry-mountain.
But hear me, what I am
Going to say;
You are climbing a
Wrong mountain that has
No root on the ground,
Test first your own leg
And your own existence.
Think for a while
Who you are,
Where and what for you are,
Then only utter words..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem