I am major, you are minor,
For what do you meet?
If size bellows from minds,
Then largeness is your goal
And gallows, like hanging is
To theft and murder of the ancient.
I am resigned to fear you,
My cap is worn by your soul,
Like weather on a rainy day,
For the hanging is far off
And on my agenda, the same
Agenda as my country of birth.
I am major and you are inferior,
Like the bird on a branch of trees
And the earthquake rumbling from
Village to village, escaping towns
And habitats, on the ballroom;
A pitch so dark and strewn is made.
My fear is forbidden to me,
For I behold you as old and lean,
Figure of my destiny, the old
Movie, or the trained comrade
Whose companion is me,
Little is the prize that awaits me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem