It is to late for me that gift as a child
vast sums in my head beaten out by my ignorant teachers.
This gift is simply of you.
Simple is Mathematics the spirit in you
it means that vast calculations that dance to your will in your head,
rearanged upside down, right side up and sideways.
Sums by some unlike me however by your written records.
However, no actual practice of real beauty and mathematics,
each system of light cannot be fully appreciated.
One can make a sophisticated mathematical system,
more coefficient probably more than is by others possible.
Infinate strings that vibrate the light in your head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem