Stepping stones, filling many gaps of loneliness,
finishing exact stances of wisdom, gathered loosely
into piles of learning, subjected to the scrutiny of
many ages, past and present.
Sanctioning the absolutes of experience, knowledge
settles itself in desks of complacent nurturing.
Thoughts bloom, spread out over the world, pocketed
at times, saved for quiet remembering, to be relished
in the souls and hearts of intellectual minds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem