Only heaven, only mist, my sacred fortune
Is ceasing to be, opening now into good fellowship.
I have meanings, too many friends,
I bless each when they arrive;
But then a sacred fortune returns,
I fear this occasion of the night
When they stare into me, and see me.
Offering me new heaven, all of the school of learning,
They insult the grades of my living
When the sacred fortune disappears
For a time.
What is this foam or leather? It is my luck.
It is my hair when I look in the mirror,
The locks carry meaning, but no!
I find in my reflection a story,
A story of a sacred fortune:
It is ignorance of my wealth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem