Since you have received grief my folly has terminated,
Your pain is my pain, and your face is mine only.
Through the thought of your earthquake and talk of order,
Our disorder grows stronger with the passing hour.
The ointment is severe and harsh on the spirits of decency,
Bending and stretching is the key to our victory always.
Love loses the fight, lovers define the art of kickboxing,
Opening the house of mania and the religion of human rights,
Your pain has been shed out of love and care for my being.
The heart is open, keeping everything tame and allied,
But your pain is greater than my suffering, and hurt,
Dissolving the soul in a fluid of love and trust that never floats.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem