With all the knowledge I have learned,
I am framed by who I am,
a wheel that no longer turns,
frozen by my flesh,
lost in my own descent,
stone hard and worn,
as eyes see what they wish,
ears only hear what they want to,
and then once again,
the wheel turns fresh,
to mill the grain,
ice gone to free me once more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem