You are exterior
To myself,
And I know
You can do no harm
In any way.
On his birthday
Let me remember,
The very words of
Sri Aurobindo,
And let me myself,
My own crying weaknesses,
My own cowardice,
My own selfishness,
My hypocrisy,
My purblind sentimentalism
Will do much harm
And I am cautious
To all the enemies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem