The ‘understand' is a genius word,
The ‘man' is a delighted term of sequence;
We from something, find worlds in action,
Men of understanding fill the rectangle,
Some of the women are of the family,
But geometry and trigonometry never falter.
No cause has the illness of a man around us,
He revolves like the planet around its star,
In an eclipse of perfection, the heart is dear.
We are thinking of the hunted one as a genius,
Surely, the strength of his action and thought
Is disbelieved for it is incredulous and feeling.
He has illness, he finds a settler who famously
Proclaims his orders to defenders of the crown.
The wisdom becomes an anxious cry,
Mental objects differ due their understanding of
Us as the real people of illness and disease.
We are merely too suffered, too pained by ghosts
Walking among us, for they died,
Yet we must?
Too many are governed by the encirclement,
The revolution of a sick wiser human being,
He is around, for all those around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem