I start to collide with my rooms,
Dreams are alive like their parents,
The children inside are like phantoms,
But the ghosts are always going to haunt
The untouchable feelers, who have antennae
And catch thieves.
Gnosis is required by a man of the heart,
Inside it he has pressure to collide
And extract divine light as far as we can conceive,
The very middle way obviously works out
By those mundane and cherished.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem