In the celestial and terrestial,
We arise.
On a plane higher than life,
Powerless,
Yet irresistably gathered.
Sealed in shadowy moods,
Yet held to Providence.
Even as vanity might yield,
To wisdom.
In due time.
As the laurel lowers it's green,
So falls the dew.
Gently, insidiously around.
False wisdom fosters humility,
Solemn yet sound.
A confluence of life's experience,
Acceptance of pain,
Now yields,
To Providence.
And to a higher plane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You provide a lot to think about in this one. Hopefully, we all will arrive at that higher plane, but, as you point out, that might be through much pain, take time and leaving behind many mistakes in our wake.