I can love the book of stages,
This book is clean and pure,
Then forward is the march that annexes,
It annexes due to speed and it can assure.
Beyond belief I surprise one on this,
Love of a book weighs heavily,
It injures the heart like a hiss
That came not from snakes but from generosity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem