What malady, O’ World, ailed me,
For lighter became my broad breast;
Vacuity arose in its inner cavity
Being clouded by the air of unrest.
Captive became my head now,
By the power of a lovely force;
My heart remains with me though,
The sign of usurper has been endorsed.
My head loses control over my heart
Which rhythms slow or very fast;
Thoughts wander, and concentration thwarts,
And helpless and feeble I feel at last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The poet's question is to the world......the tears of the poor.....the less privileged........I assume.......