Atoms are back, balls of flame, swung into desuetude,
For they are light particles of enlightenment, to worship.
Comely atoms are effervescent, for they are with ebullience,
Areas are still, areas are bands of strength, banks of disuse.
May we swing into disuse one day with atoms and molecules,
Converted into dust, covered by clay as we originated from it;
Animals corrupt the ancient philosophers, apples of knowledge,
Fully like babies in perfection and perception, like arts of wholeness.
The capital of thinking regards the atoms with disgust,
My captain is a car of thoughts, drive it to reach more disuse;
The body of a book is a cynosure of this civilisation,
Swinging us into efflorescence, for we are ephemeral.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem