Every person in this world holds a part of world; some are large, some are small, but any of them cannot be neglected at all.
Every time when we see small men are out the scene. Their major part of the life changed what world looked like.
Their contribution are never remembered. They are left just to wonder.
Everyone come, toss up their pride, only thing to which they got right.
They are the axis of the world towards which the world turns.
People say it's an imaginary line importance of which doesn't lie. But nobody sees it's the line which connects North to South and help the world to go around.
Like a thread they bind, cover the distance which arise. Their hands are left empty light in their house never got entry.
They are still here holding a rope in a hope that they will get their share.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem