A vinery, among the flames of marvel,
Now dwelling in it has become harsher.
A meadow of deer,
A monastery of monks,
A movement of merchants,
A wilderness of wanderlust
I accept only the religion of love.
Wherever the caravan of love turns,
That's the belief; that's the faith.
That's the path I do keep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem