To the burning soul
the thirst that makes it burn
and a fuel knowledge acts
to a many light is dawn.
The flame that rise
from just one
can burn a forest down
but the one that rises now
is the one of pheniox's turn.
The raging flame,
of the red and the yellow
is also mild in the candle's eye.
It has sighted so many stars
in the darkness of the night.
The candle flame
may be bleek
under the great ans mighty sun.
But after dusk
the candle's regime
takes care till the rising sun.
'20th November,2007'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem