Love brings love from always the right work,
Love the entrails of someone who hates nobody;
For their stains on the soul are certainly of eternity,
Losing the shackles of love entails sorrow.
My beach of mystery collects more sand,
More help has been the reality so much of the sand.
Love enters the frictional areas and returns,
They form twists of the sword and stadium.
I must see the eternal joy spring from the heart,
Yesteryear a yard or foot was apt to describe itself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem