Within the tomb is another person,
Fair and concentrated in his or her own work;
It went many years before his or her death,
In prayers there stood the comprehension,
A brighter garden of tricks fell to the ground,
Climbing was a tragedy, climbing was defeat,
Mounting the horses seemed a deed of deeds
To be met with failure and embarrassment.
The person inside the tomb spoke
And relayed the thoughts of a lifetime;
To knock and alter the ages we wore.
Like some cage the person wetted the sky,
A ceiling of misery was in order.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem