Who knows what prophecies have since been swept
Into time’s cosmic vault where treasures, kept
Imprisoned, are chained and left forever.
Carven words of endless philosophy
Never lasted more than hours, but though vast
Tides of arcana’s arching paw have massed
And stolen words all-wise, there will be lines
In the sand never washed away by wits’ ocean.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem