The heating of layers of the soul
Is so precious for the upkeep of life;
Scorching the cells, we define
A real-time tragedy too scorching.
We are cold and dismayed with me,
Burning boats of dreams are with us,
Little do they rest with mightiness,
And less is the empowerment of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem