Poems are good for thy parched soul,
But write only that many
To quench thy hunger,
No quenching thy mind and soul,
Balance, surrender to thy neighbour,
The neighbor in hunger,
Poetry assume the form pure,
If it is from body in hunger,
Leave the earth corner,
Moon, ether, flower, shower,
To thy neighbour,
Or leave the poem on there,
With a stone on the paper.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem