Was but a little weak plant,
mettle not to hand, the Stand very unsound,
afraid of the hustle, near and around.
Once on a rough sunny day,
blew a fierce Wind whence nowhere,
life has been stiff hence out there.
The Wind even more fiercely persuaded,
even the greater have bow in its way,
also the mighty, though good to stand their stay.
Fright further frowned the forehead,
Of the effort to survive, has the strength so gain,
toward the sky the Stand and the fear left in vain.
No more then the Wind was ever hostile,
but a teacher who taught to have dare,
filled into the courage, made the Stand fair.
The mighty have bow not of the fear but reverence,
Gratitude to the Teacher, Sovereign of the knowledge city kingdom,
She the Earnest Enlightenment, and the Wind of Wisdom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem