What fool shall say, 'My days are fair,
God's in his world and all is well,'
When half mankind shrieks in despair
Worse than in Dante's flaming hell!
I cannot sing in happy mood
While hostile armies take their toll.
On these dark days I toil and brood
With starless midnight in my soul.
And yet, O World, O Life, O God!
I find myself, jest as the fool,
Believing in thy chastening rod,
Believing still that love must rule.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem