I wail and wince at your triumphs,
Whilst my urges grow stronger everyday.
The garments of beauty on my body
Outweigh the weight on my mind.
It is rich help, hoarse speech, humourous talk,
That aids and works for the future.
Yet your triumphant hour awaits,
And my little men and women are aware.
Let this be a lesson for those in rage
To withhold their beat of drums, even in fits of kindness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i dont understand what you want to say? ?