Inhale now that the books are chosen,
Turn them to inhabit them, occupying them.
There is a reason for the thinking,
A meaning to deliver to the brain.
They are stocked on the shelves,
For all in the house, always in view.
A history has emerged of truthfulness,
Nothing but the truth, nobody objects
Or instructs others.
Inside we did discover all the knowledge,
But inhale any you demand for all time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem