I gave my life to this paper, 
Let me die with it.
I poured my rhymes to these margins, 
Let my children read them.
For I am prepared, 
to be the eagle with my own nest.
Far, very  in vas of my triaquest 
Let me die a Poet, 
Know I have quenched all my thirst                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    