Though I now write these words one afternoon
In August of the year twenty-fourteen
My probing mind now contemplates how soon
My spirit will attend all that has been
Enacted on the stage of consciousness
Within the brains of certain living things
It occupied long time past. Nonetheless
The record is unchangeable and brings
Clear indication whether it succeeds
In an endeavour to so regulate
The conduct of the body, which it needs
To carry out its task to modulate
Progression to a state it trod
Of peri-perfection in the sight of God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem