To slump and slay shall be the decision,
To get the rest needs rest itself, as the basket
Is carried by the limped workers.
Sleep pokes at you from the higher reaches,
Positions of splendour exist for those who wait
And persevere like the bison and cattle of that nation.
It rests on a premise, and it rests on splendour,
For hearts may conquer the beloved,
He revolves around a circle
And the circle revolves around him,
Holding a foot with a hand
And a hand made useful feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem