You help others when you face your pain. You get by the storm when you except and deal with its force. Everything grows this way. If you want fertility without a rain you are empty sand in a man made desert, a desolation, you only live a marginal life, all in your orbit enact your strife until they see through your fake and shallow personality where nothing grows, and all is a cover up, just displacement of false pride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem