I was sure I knew sufferings
My journeys, never infinite
A carpet lay, if one not stray
Swell of days, be on their way
Devote makes it right, so they told
My world is, but a tiny ball
Give my eyes, always to the wise
Until when I heard her cry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Short and sweet! Thanks.