Slip the shackles of this clumsy world,
Step sideways into the world of confusion,
A plane of existence without end.
The wellspring whose tributaries flow into each of us
Droplets of ideas trickling into the verdant gardens of our minds
Or the broken, cracked deserts within us.
Each drops landing on either a flower,
Or sending a gentle puff of dust into the air,
The desert grows into a garden from a single idea,
The garden grows into a well tended grove,
The grove grows into a tumultuous forest....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem