O my mother, I have searched in the world
and found nothing worthy of love,
nothing is really except love;
I plant, a creeper of love
and silently watered with tears,
now it has grown more
and more to the world of love.
My heart is fit to break the love
My life, is the reward for good deeds
But no one understand me,
only the wounded,
twig the agonies of wounded
In pain, I wander here and there
but, could not find a doctor
Listen! Love is the word to heart,
humanity is the way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem