They called my poems - diamonds,
Although I get no money,
I don't read them to audience,
I don't know why I write them.
Like waterfall with thundering peals,
The poems refresh my throat,
Make demons fly through my lines slit,
And purify my soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There's a perfect word in English for your poem: I-n-g-e-n-u-o-u-s. It's a very positive word and too precise to be considered flattery. It means honest, truthful, open, without any holding back or concealing or deception. I read that Panteleon (spelling?) after whom the Church on Franklin Ave. is named was a martyr. A martyr is an extreme example of an ingenuous person. Facing certain death, a martyr can only be very lucid and committed. And honest with her/himself and the world. (See message box for my humble commentary)