My names differ in the way they are told,
Goals for eternity are these names for some;
What power prevents me from being aware
Of faint thoughts about naming and telling?
My soul prevents other souls from growing,
Stuck into stability, the heart I wear grows;
For he now makes me a slave of thinking,
My feasting is different from his, the man with growth.
I have solutions for the problems of slavery,
Yet I need freedom to become an experience.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem