Hope
Is a creature
Whom I cannot describe;
It is amorphous, it is celestial, it is
Spoken and misspoken, spoken,
Unspoken and unclear
In its soft treads of light, these
Only clues it leaves behind to its
Existence,
Soft recounts to subtly spoken content
In the lives of everyone she has found
And found to be described.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hope is in the love of life, but also can be a weapon as well. As people can hope for good or bad the poem sums this up well.