Almost every great one set off from the wood.
Although slipped off many times from the stiles,
The Faradays prepared through books.
Hitting golden knowledge between the hammer and suffering.
The diligents at times walk the journey alone,
And ignored the piercing brier under their soles,
And the pain of bruises, and never retreat.
They proceed patiently and diligently
Knowing full well that past ends in present,
And present proceeds to the future.
Until they finally end up in crystal zenith.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem