All things are of interest,
From the fragile ant that carries,
A crumb of bread that has fallen,
And is bigger than herself,
To the vast, infinite Universe,
Whose hidden meaning, so far,
Has been more or less a guess.
Who are we to destroy, plunder?
Things, we surely did not make,
We, who are but dirt and thunder,
Yet, still think, we are so great,
We should be quite a bit humbler,
And respect each living gift,
And take care of all the wonders,
This great Earth has yet to give.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't understand it, Sandra. As I became older, I learned several things. I know nothing. I am just one of billions. Nature is powerful, yet fragile. I thought everyone learned these wisdoms with age, but it is not the case. Selfish, egotistical, closed minded people ruin it for us all