Is art of thousands my God,
where then is it's heart?
Thus this thousand shouldest it thy eye,
and mine with two,
pouring on him all thy tears bleed the sun to some extent,
and it that the hast of thousand l' made for you
and each thing I left with '; God'; .
g.h.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem