Who breaks the silence that protects me
And in the inner wilderness, called the mind,
Bestows to my borrowed thoughts originality,
Which are the tools that have shaped those thoughts,
Given them an identity,
And allows them to lift and rise anew,
Where are the surveyors who could assess
The opinions that sway my mind
That gave them the markers to be used,
When would the storm raging within subside,
My mind takes a rest,
To achieve the sublimity, it alone can.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem