Why do thee jest at me? Are my dreams a laughable
Symbol perched upon me as a crown?
Is the age at which time has stood set back the ideas within my head
Or where has the line of ignorant words cross or halt?
Surely will the plans I so behold unravel before the foolish
Eyes of those who set back my own thoughts
Steadily will the whole world know the shortcomings of what
I vow
And to thee shall see what resentment feels like to a palpable heart
that dreams a grand picture
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem