Why are you bewailing?
A conscience is lying hidden in the mid summer night.
If dry, wet it with tears.
A keen sorrow keeps open the door of heart
If not proceed in dark on the way
Drive and cross the river of sorrow at eve.
A wrong conception has dreamt
Awaking him in chariot of conscience you may bewail.
Melancholy pain love are all my own
Weave in one thread
And build a house of heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem