Harshly I am dealt by the heraldry
Of my family
For the roads inherit the selfish
Hard is the orange of the sun
As it glows forming juice
In our living organs, lately
Hollow hearts engage in worship
As far as life’s end
In the way of skies and lands so fair
My nice oddities remind us of duty
Springing from the earth, for I am clean
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem