Deep, deep night the eyes of injustice close
For how injustice hurts, such a disease
Of pain and aching heart
That needs of drugs such dose!
O I rhyme, but the rhythm counts.
O I versify, but my heart counts.
For then
My heart speaks.
And when my heart speak the heavens speak.
Aloud.
Aloud.
And my poor heart, the poor heart frees
Itself from the clutches of injustices.
Give me a heart that is sad,
Never mind, the sadness,
But a heart that reads well
By a mere glance the heavens.
Just that.
Just that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem