Please exhaust the iron men,
If strength means oblivion;
The roads of philosophy are few,
But their ideas stride forward,
Like a march of hidden nature.
My army is without me,
And within me it strays,
Making iron men obey and prostrate
For their strength that stings.
Words concentrate their efforts
On us when we are obliged to reply;
But silence created knowledge
For those who pursued it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem