Roam down, small shape, into the world,
All this geometry seizes us!
They disappear into the wild torrents
We call life as we know it.
Then the stage is set for abolishing fine
Shapes.
Then mathematicians confer to find a perfect grade,
To be always in our hearts and heresies.
This is the study of numbers,
And this night warms the day
When sadness collects and happiness expires.
But our knowledge of the shapes
Makes us superior and well-loved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem