All the sadness I can never write
And all the joy, I suppose, also,
It is more than what we can say
The feeling the endless feeling
The subtleties even of our pains-
We hint at them
We name them in general
But the feelings
The endless flow of feelings
They are beyond our words-
Even in exuberance
We are more mystery to ourselves
Than we can say-
And even in shades of names other times invent
We cannot tell the colors of our souls all truly-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem