I know not why the false tales stir trouble,
Like talk of fear, talk of hate and no such talk of love.
May spectacles splendidly arise for the better,
To words I have dedicated my tale or story.
The glasses I wear write eastern airs to the rain,
These rains are long and hard.
The list of words continues to speak
About a town or village in the full knowledge.
The disaster crests with laughter and nought will destroy,
Nothing is caring of you and this world of glasses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem