A light he knows appearing every morning to brush up high darkness. A light he knows called him to wash old cloths torn but usable yet. A light he knows never pushed him to hate the animals who are of dense forest meateater and angry with uncertain objects. A light he knows always dictate a melody of love... a light he knows as universe where he finds no end... reciprocate as life and light and love... he ultimately writes a line under his skin... I am a man-child, not of other animal!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem