Stalling life and holding breathe,
The body is surrounded aqueous.
Volumes in these walls discuss
Their true potential depth.
Where one would think greatness,
There resides but a cesspool
Of shallow, extrinsic stool
From which all natural reasons recess.
Still the mind plunges deep
In this world that shoals
Toward that which the flesh shall reap.
Pray for impoverished souls
That seek meaning in confined abyss
Where true sense has come amiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem