Some sort of miracle has been transferred to my
Straight heart, beating faster now that my frown
Has disappeared after so many paths in the way.
The deed creates a feeling and emotion, of miracles
And bandages, fluids and secretions that master
The man and woman with pious knowledge.
The deed speaks almost like the path of a circle,
This circle causes me to alter the whole life when my
Circle contains many circles, too enlightening like
Thunder in the heart of the storm, too fearful of us.
Some of sorted men have contained a force so wise,
Their fluids crown the heads with merciful belonging,
This prayer sits and sells its purity without us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem