My nature is of nature itself,
A kind light of my soul,
The very essence that rings supreme,
Into every knot of existence.
The elite flower is on my head,
Overcast with shadows that nature deals,
A sun and star cascade like waterfalls
To bury the lavender on my hat.
My nature is that of fear and grief,
Solid nature of sad constancy,
The sadness subsides to bring in hope
Of an everlasting future.
My chair has turned golden,
As the warmth enters the heart,
Giving masterful looks to my face,
This path of action ranks high as highness itself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem