Until I found your face, Wisdom,
There was not a trace of the extraordinary.
Men & things stood like dominoes of monotony.
But now, the array is broken, in seeing -
Everything has depth and everyone has soul.
Will every learner master true vision this way,
Then experience difference unlike before,
With eyes connected to a compassionate heart;
Or will the stubborn remain stubborn,
A tragedy beyond measure and definition?
How critical openness is in the process of learning,
How impossible without awareness.
As lungs persist, mind ought to pave roads,
Countless, necessary, untrodden wilderness
Leading to a treasure chest of lessons.
The wealth that is solid, that sparkles,
And the abundance of lovers and of pleasures -
Those riches will depreciate in value.
Even now, studying life like an ancient manuscript,
What do I speak of to the ears of the future?
This question fuels my research
Into excavating deeper into the heart of the heart,
Put into verses what the earth has buried,
Polish them for the enlightenment of readers.
I know even teachers are constantly students,
Reading to write, vice versa; living to love, vice versa -
Endlessly circling towards the cone's tip of nirvana.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem