In Alchemy a word or two can fill an hour full
and chanting of a single word is very powerful.
While babble and semantic wit are something to behold
never have they shaped a man into another's mold.
When answers shouted in the face do fail to make a scratch
a question whispered here or there will certainly dispatch
What is left, eternal life, for me of boredom born
but face again the angry mob and this time without scorn?
If you're looking for the value of motivation's stir
a rock, a stone, is merely words to a philosopher.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem