In these days you surrender to a friend,
When does the turning-point reach you?
Mighty are ships of stone that had sunk,
They were built by those in moods of highness.
A mate will be your captain, a fully able sailor,
Not the whole person of weakness and frailty.
The nights seem longer than your days
When the friendship has disappeared.
Your days of friendship are over
Ever since high secrets entered the soul and mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem