The great world has not known me, 
    Nor I the world have known; 
The great world will not own me
    Altho’ I am her own.
I walk with her a stranger
    Who am of her a child-
A vagrant, and a ranger
    Of ways forlorn and wild.
Clear unto other vision, 
    Blind ever unto me, 
My soul is a prison
    Whereof none holds the key.
My Mother-World, I wonder
    When no more of life a part-
A clod your bosom under-
    Will you take me to your heart?                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    