I think the worn truths are shaken by the roots
And alarms grow faster every minute,
To tie the bonds with knowledge to sweeten,
To sweeten the mouth with honey and sugars.
A blessed flower surges into sight from afar,
Wiping the tears of longing and gates;
To be opening these gates is purer than the soul,
For the soul is so pure if the cold snow is upon us.
I think, I think and I think
To thank those in actions of speech,
Why do alarms grow by the seconds?
What are the similarities between stars and planets?
I believe, I believe and I believe
That stardom is the facet of knowledge purest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem