-
Dearest, you see me best of men
And I thank God since its just when
You speak my virtue, seek my love
Then skies teem kindness from above
For only the Hand of Providence
shades beaming eyes and seals their sense.
This skeleton I found at Dover-
I poured some rum, but it drank quicker,
it roared- it could not hold its liquor-
'that nothing's ever really over'.
The serpent grabs for its own tail
the living ring, an eternal sign;
it will never quit or just resign.
for it ends to begin-not fail.
The way to start, to first begin,
is not to stop, to not give-in.
All abstract numbers in their race
will twist eternity and make it bend:
new beginnings bans a numeric end.
Each value exceeds prior place.
Human fantasies of our cognition
they never cease, but sweetly swell
for dreams and schemes, countless as well,
such breeds beyond dour inhibition.
so the way to start, to first begin
is not to stop, to not give in.
All counting's for the stastician!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The music is on your lips, the rhythm is in your your step, but the concept is not in your mind. What are you saying?