I began to pull up a crude ladder,
The boots this time clung on;
To catch at the top a frequent visit
Was overworking but obvious play.
Hurrying down the encounters existed
As the bad luck sensibly entered.
Out of the tent stared a real monster,
But up the sloping hill a luck gave birth.
The birth of fortune was the treasure,
The treasure was the lucky system,
Falling and toppling, like gold and jewels.
Thanking the ladder was like showing blood
To heaven, heaven was a heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem