Too tired are my eyes;
Often moments cast the sting
Memoir- fresh, that’s held there
In past to lily-smiles of her song.
To cornerstone to my dark night
In journey through smoke ad lit passing-
And be reluctant, but I pledged
-reticent to woo, to birds whirling.
But heroic and lone as seen-
In lush green; splendors lie
But to fire all they belongs to me
If truth be the husband, sun to glad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem