Breaking silence of the void,
when it acquired a tiny empire;
everything was strange,
and everyone was stranger.
Here is to cultivate a fertile land
by holding the plough and harrow
with optimum amount of clay and sand
and varieties of seeds to sow.
Though, buried are the vast treasures
could it be sweet or bitter
but, choice is yours
To harvest them sooner or later.
Hear the sounds of soil
Uproot the weeds of rancor
Cultivate the seeds of righteousness
Cleanse the insights smudged by quagmire.
Seasons after seasons are passed
Years are passed with possession
To make it a beautiful garden,
Enkindle the petals of compassion.
When the lease is over
how much you try but cannot tie
haze will cover the sight
and you will bid to free and fly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem