If I would be that poor little blind
Awesome things would not be mine.
The beauty of earth, the wideness of the line
Would still be vague in my mind.
If I would be that poor deafmute
My ceaseless grievances will remain unsoothe.
Those words need to be uttered
Will just be bouncing, riding on my lip.
The lovely chorus of the birds
Will be nothing, remained unheared.
How pathetic would I am, to be that lame
Things would be far from what I aimed.
I would far left behind
I would be nothing, my life would be useless.
Bearing and suffering a ceaseless cries
And stay with life full of miseries.