.
'What is our purpose? '
I ask in this purple twilight.
Our purpose as poets
Is to gently awaken
From apathy's sleep.
Then we can connect fragments
Of the sacred Word.
In this troubled, estranged world,
Where darkness prevails,
We poets create notions
And gradually
Cultivate a little light.
These times are testing.
The Mystical Rose is torn
By life's thorns. It bleeds.
Yet it will bloom forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem