And as that Seed from Water's Bounty will Bloom
So would that Flame as Blessed Stars innate
Which Shine as Best our own Human consume
And Shun those Editors re-frisk our Fate
That Wise so Labour-Felled Chantries betroth
Thrice-Sift Blend which Ingredients reproduce
By far Storms our own Calm Destiny enough
And every Page fill Milked Words introduce
Then once when Read as every Granule shift,
Left-Right to Sweep what Bruise remains our Skin
As he, Clean his Awning Self should Uplift
There Praise as Chanted Gold embed Within.
Which Gentleness distinct our own Heroes Shine
These with Unknown Postules I offer mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem