I find myself in a clearing.
Bookcases tower over me:
Redwoods in a forest of sublime knowledge.
Silently I wonder through foliage,
Searching for the elusive text;
The forbidden fruit.
I venture past ancient tomes,
Their spines faded and brittle as autumn leaves,
Their contents evergreen.
I take a deep breath;
The musty scent of pine hangs fresh in the air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem