She could not afford the prize,
It forsook the certain ritual of clever
Viewing and chaste reply, the chaste
People spoke then of their messages.
One spoke forwards, and this brother
Of the heavens would not interfere
As the words were uplifting the sounds,
And utterances fell like feathers and wind.
A storm brewed, a forsaken pleasure was
Reignited to form the masses of the ocean,
The words of the waves, and the pleasing names;
A thunderstruck man complied with the rule.
He saw a lighter harm, but it neared him studiously,
Winning its way like the dissolved follower,
Of the correct disposition, of the righteous man
Who perfected the soldiers and never spoke.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem