Time runs on splintered heels
And flies like the clock's hands, once unloosed;
If you would climb the mountain of days,
Perhaps unchain, the fettered years
From lakes of seconds, in their sieves
Search all about the world, and find
Tomes where the tales in secret live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So true Patti. We're all climbing that mountain of days, and the peak is not so far away as once envisioned. May we indeed seek the tales in tomes, lest we forget the mountains Creator. Peace.