Offerings of books collapse from too much work,
As I condemn those books or volumes then in print;
Their funny oblique case cancels the debts,
Those funnier words exhibit a trough and crest;
Their only riddles seem fun and certain,
Inside the cells of the wood that they caress.
My offer is the same as thoughts of books,
They cancel my demanding questions,
Wisdom causes sufferers to unite and abstain
From the overwhelming pains to endure.
Then books have formulas that render us special,
The ways of the author exactly mimic and close.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My offer is the same. Let us go to the books of wisdom.