To thee, solitude is mind's aimed peace,
Not a hermit, just having a rest.
In thee, flourishes gregariousness,
Not an extrovert, but an introvert.
Thou live in harmonious residence.
A stressed mind refreshes in silence,
So chain of thoughts isn't ill but fine.
Splinters from the city with no trace;
Mended thy wounds with house so serene,
Only by not stressing that's excess.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem