what it is like to gather all the empty shells again
put them in a basket
take them to your room and turn on the study lamp
relax yourself and scrutinize each shape and color
and from out of the past memories
you reinvent things like the way you put the shells
on the table
create another entity of these unthinking things
like the way you map out a journey for the soul
towards your belief for eternity
the shells are scattered but soon your hands shall
learn what to make most from each of them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem