Rigid are the bones
Of scholarly treatises,
Only poetry
Can add colour, flesh and grace
To this absurd world,
That always seem to hang in
The balance. I guess
That wisdom lies at the end
Of knowledge. Endless
Revisions only lead back
To the origins
Of things. Better to absorb
The flow and reflect
It back in pure, lyrical
Verses of enchantment,
With degrees of refinement.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem