Like the black bee,
You are dying
Within the foreign language.
Die not, die not,
But see you have
Your own mother-tongue.
Go on with your own
Strength and stand up
Against all odds.
Let me declare you
As the winner,
The winner of the world,
The winner of nectar
Without loss of stature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem