Life will be blessed by your father,
Its shining littleness is touching the spot,
For this living is temporary and definite.
Life expresses a cold stare from the face,
Opening the chastised door,
Frailer than the ones before.
Life expects us to defend the soul,
It is silent soul, it is silent soul.
We have to break the pathway of gold.
Life is western in the west, and crafts
Of golden touch feed the tongue,
Life organises a blending pool.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem