Joy bursting forth, 
flowing as a fountain, 
emanating from 
a man on his mountain, 
the mountain was tall
and broad at its base
but all of it laid
below as his waste
A flower he was
now growing on schitt, 
head in the sky, 
perfectly free, 
a candle well lit!                
                    This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem