Hail, hailstones, and the iceblocks falling from heaven!
I am clothed in a fine linen to preach the truth to you all;
But, the works of the people are too negative to bear.
You are decked with gold and,
The world knows its own;
Like the order of the day from the aftermath of a curiousity!
So move your mind to wisdom and,
Try to know me like the quest for money;
For the thirst for water and the hunger for food is like,
The logical lifesytle around us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem