His vision seemed struggling
To leave the fleshy flaps,
Aiming epic destination beyond
The gloomy dusk of generations.
Having known and forgotten
Everything around, within
And beyond his intellect,
The scepter duly slipped off.
Hercules dared not to trace,
Neither Oracle whispered the fate,
Nor could Socrates define,
Only caused foreheads to bleed.
The wand glorious might have found
It's eternal abode in depth infinite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So man is in eternal search after the lost sceptre..... Generations couldn't trace it, neither the strength of Hercules, the wisdom of Socrates nor the prophetic vision of the Oracle, as it is hidden in depths, infinite and the search just goes on and on..! ! A poem rather mysterious and deep! !