My feet are like disks grinding in their homes,
The sleep of their soles is so respectful,
One of the giants in the sky hates us,
For we are larger as webbed men.
My feet are hands forming from the soul,
This respect patrols the area of ships
And describes the respect of the sailors
Who protect the country that is a nation.
My soul feeds others with lasting intelligence,
Opening the window to expose the heart
To the outside manners so delightful,
Like this we pray and find our foothold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem