This purity stains my accepted one,
Weeping uncovers a double tragedy,
When we are weak, immovable, and in a slump.
This pain is overreaching me in its height of life
And living then engaging, so engaging.
I live with people who condemn, denigrating the work
We survive, as goals are scored on the imagination.
Employment stops and work begins at home,
When a struggle is sought to undermine the body
As it weakens into strength of the soul-
Its destination is Paradise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem