The habitation of shadows ghosts and
Shrouds
There be the place
There be the time for sages and philosophers.
As knives sharpened be
Reciprocal
So whetted Wisdom there.
The monks sleep or in prayers pace
Along dim corridors and the clocks that tick.
Stirs Dawn in her distant cave as night
Declines; Dawn rises and First Lights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem