An almost imperceptible sigh
Escaping from throats of tormented souls,
Rising to some Omnipresence,
Witnessing the Agony of Existence:
Rising, as an unuttered prayer—
Hardly consoling with its liberation:
Thus, we keep on surviving...
Always, in a docile patience,
Hoping, with a ceaseless faith,
In the natural order of matter,
As in the certainty of tomorrow's rising sun:
Thus, we are waiting...
And holding on to faith;
That, impermanence,
Is what keeps this world alive.
The nocturnal elements: the moon, and the stars,
Though minuscule, still, shining bright
In the darkness of our sufferance;
The faith in the diurnal elements: the sun's light,
The rebirth of each fresh morning
After the night-sleep purification,
In a new life waiting to be lived:
Thus, we believe again...
In the uniqueness of each day,
In the uniqueness of such
Miracle that Life is:
Thus, we keep on surviving...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reading them again on the prospect of their translation I wonder whether this time I can succeed in making them equally so well sounding.