I scream from utter silence, lost to unknown;
I am without a mask in a world foreknown.
I don't know why I ponder, here, now and then
know I yonder from my outcast sin.
I must go forth endeavor, and so forth my lonesome tear,
bring back my sorrow yonder and near.
Nigh be I if only was true,
if I naught of love if it was true.
Then nigh be truest upon my tear shed blue,
but if only it was; only it was true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem