To rise above
A million pointed swords
Of trouble
To rise and head
That must the human be:
The stars of heaven will applaud.
Not flowing strategy
Just
Set-piece after set-piece
At last
Will have
Propensity to the goal.
And
In the distance dusk the red
Leaves stage with a bent head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem