Distil this sadness at the heart of your thought,
Offer kindness to yourself if the worry is affected.
Unfinished business remains too bought,
By the dragons of conjecture, awful not grand.
May the distillation of misery be an evaporation
Or an emancipation for the soul, the rigour of the heart.
The head and heart are business of the soul
And this mighty righteous action to name
Contains no heresy, no fanatic feature or real qualm
From the people who inhabit the superior dwellings
We have attained also.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem