If you called it hell
I am not better in this heaven
If you called it heaven
If you are here, O my wicked friend.
You bear malice, my dear
For other people
And are bent upon doing ill to all
You are cruel and take
Delight in committing violence.
My dear friend, I am calling you
My torch bearer, you are my soap and surf
For you I am here cautious, see
But make my road clear
I regard you as my own teacher.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem