The man was authentic, what else can be said?
Four disparate faculties, effortlessly he wed.
Thought, Feeling, Word, and Action
Blended in one harmonious transaction.
No man was ever more in sync with himself,
No man ever more awake to his own rhythm
There was, between he and himself, no schism.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem