There is something that I find always
There is something that give me pain always,
Out of it I strive
To find out happiness
And only a few words of mine
Sooth my herat sooth my grief
And I stoop myself to that words and letters always.
Never I strive for gaining something
Material gain is hollow all about
Let me read your poems that entice me
To go beyond this earthly sorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem