you have never found beauty
never will you ever put it in your hand and
claim it as yours alone
it is fan with many hands
a traveler in all lands scattered in every
nook in every unknown directions
it does not live in your house
you cannot imagine it
as numbers and solutions
when it comes you gaze at it
the first time you see it
you feel it
and you know that it is
and no matter how you grasp it
in some residences
it is never staying
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem