The words in Your book remain
scribbled in my heart,
in memory to retain
and from them I cannot part.
If loving You
is a true art,
like a colouring with its own unique hue
then from its principles I cannot depart
as I see You in everything
in everyone’s face
even in the early spring
in every season, time and place:
Even in the blue sky, there are praises due to You
as if to You, everything beautiful remains true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem