When my own soul so pure and undefiled starts to sink
Beneath the polluted ocean of society's morass,
I look into the eyes of those whose souls are unencumbered with such stink
And then I think to be released from such displeasure as was wrought upon the anvil of my heart would make my soul more crass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
AMAZING stuff, Shane! ! ! I love the thought expressed in the last lines....yeah! society's morass does work like a soul-rinsing detergent! Hats off to u! ! !