Nobody moves in me, not anyone,
I am silent as a heavenly soul;
My dreams reveal a hidden image
Of persuasion, of excellence.
My visage is ghostly, forever,
And in this formula rhymes success.
Will disbelief triumph when the soul
Has been tested?
The soul has reverence for the sick
Just as tall men carry weight.
The soul is dead, and in pleasant heaven,
Opening many thoughts and feelings due to old age.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem