How much are we like a tiny universe
Self contained, we exist within our own set of laws
Metaphysically present in more than one dimension
Where we came from, nobody remembers
Where we disappear to, nobody knows
It's as if we sprout out of a potent nothingness
Put on the clothing of physicality and location
For a specific length of time, itself unknown
And go away, although having no obvious
Other place to disappear into-
All of it seems like nothing so much as a dream
But who is the dreamer, and where rests the dream?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem