Into whining, into guessing, a day was guessing,
More important than mahogany, but upstairs;
Forming study, the question forbade us
As the apartment of knowledge entered our minds.
We were guessing and leading to answers,
Questions survived the chances, the telegrams;
There was lying more than us and everyone,
Yet the guesses welcomed us, as they were true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem