'Like if in a solitary shrine
all this made the author realize
that when in pensive mood or lonesome
his inner thoughts could yet still blossom
Watching the daffodils as one watches
the morning sun, the author received flashes
of bright hope, floating no more as a cloud
but with mere humans with no doubt
Being lonely, he as clouds drifted,
no more since in him the daffodils existed
the remains of those wandering moments
could on him no longer torment
Earlier feeling blissfully ignorant
the author could now boast of arrogance
no longer would he loneliness conceal
but now loneliness with daffodils will he fill
The never ending journey of life
that after death still remains,
its past, present and future will he live
with grace, glory and no claim.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem