The tip of the colossal mountains
Seems too low for those
Who wish to hug the sky,
And in their daily efforts to reach,
They crush everything that moves
As if the world is their conquest,
Laying humble under repulsive boots.
Few sit and watch the frenzy
Of the hypnotic surge without partaking
And even fewer turn their backs,
Descending further, deeper
Through the folds of surface,
Arriving to the foundation of Being.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem