I will never forget the mind's eye,
How is death encapsulated by brilliant
Sight? The divine sight has ordered me
To fight, to fight the darkness in the lane.
It meanders to bless a signal, but what is
The outrage? It is darkness instead.
I see what the blind man said he saw,
I heard the voices over the lawn of grass
And weeds, they muttered and laughed,
Read and spluttered in their wide range,
To write their birth and death is laudable;
For I consume the heart's heat and blood.
I will always hear fear, and scaring pain,
The care of this life is called a painful rifle,
Shooting through it requires skill and danger.
I will always fear the blind man with shining
Happy wings, waging peace over the lawn,
Incurring the happiness on all who decided.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem