No more we shall quarrel
Over to whom our sucesses belong,
Will rather dangle our gains opulent
Before the mirror of heaven gate
And will try to lure the footmen
By dazzling spree of our wealth
For concealing the real selves.
Leave the misgivings all about the
Timely shaking off the branches unpleasant
Too thorny to carry them for the departed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem