When, like a beast, the snow storm roars,
when, in a rage, it howls,
You do not have to lock the doors,
of your residing house.
When on a lasting trip you go
the road is hard, supposing,
you ought to open wide your door;
leave it unlocked, don't close it.
As you leave home one quiet night,
decide, don't pause a minute:
mix up the burning pinewood light
with that of human spirit.
I wish the house you live in,
were always warm and faultless.
A closed door isn't worth a thing,
a lock is just as worthless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem