Of the Earth it is not,
The sky does not shelter it,
Spirit has no house,
Free of content like translucid idioms,
Writing senses without a hand,
As a breeze touching all space,
Natural as a lotus lake
Undisturbed by the falling rain,
Stony to cause and effect,
Autonomous of a breath,
Collected in its wholeness,
Born not as the Light,
An empty unknown silence,
Smiling,
Sparking,
When it is self-conscious.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem