All the questions that every one had thrown at me,
Had filled my heart and my head.
In asking them I found,
Some questions got answers,
Others caused arguments,
And them that were left,
Filled me full of great delight in sitting and reading the answers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Those of us who are blessed with curiosity are usually a curiosity to those who aren't. The irony is that that question is not pursued, because the people, whom we baffle, hate questions and thus all answers. Seek the people who share the wonder of discovery. The others will perpetually murder Socrates and crush our souls.