The bricks lay,
In an open pile.
This made a
Particular man smile.
He knew he was
The artist, the sculptor.
He had a knack in him,
That would make him,
The greatest worker.
He didn't understand,
Why he looked at walls so.
Why he saw the bricks flow,
Into gigantic walls.
One day he scooped up,
One thousand bricks,
And made a wall as tall as
The sky.
He wove this wall through,
The world,
And told people,
'A bricklayer has to lay bricks,
To turn them into walls.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem