He had reigned unmoved on his throne
A medieval upheaval's brute stone
Hunched forward, like a sage
Eager to drink from a new page
A slit, a sail listening to seasons' wind
All around, singing a prayer for a flare of mind
Revering evenings' distant heights
Eavesdropping on nightly celestial lights
Diligently slipping on, the bold mask
Untangling alien cords, dawn till dusk
Enforcing a bullish decree of silence
An unyielding fortress of quiet assurance
Indeed, time brimmed the cup he had sought
Overflowing through dykes dug by thought
He stood, beheld far and below his dome
A road that already forked before his home
Picked his staff, for it had stood stout
When all about, had but trusted doubt
Bound his robe on on a rested shoulder
Ready for voyage, a conqueror's era
His earlier traps would be his abiding maps
His sooner triumphs would be his sterling caps
Yet another guileless late bloomer
Scouring within, for a redeemer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem