A boy of poisonous waters wades further and drinks copiously,
He is too poor for the books, for the reading of enlightened stories.
A book is enlightened by him, for a book is a soul of poverty,
The rich are in heaven, entering the pages of papyrus, gasping never.
You will enter the house because it is a mansion, thanking you if you
Are clean. Even the poor heart is a good heart, a boy of books is poor.
A boy is mounted on a donkey, keeping his heart open for love to enter
His life once more, his heart is influenced by the clay of the soil,
Communicating with us, commanding us with his mounted being.
You will hear men penn words describing him loudly and with praise,
Full of words that are words, of many decisions, words are dangerous;
On sitting down, a hardship approaches and takes away blessings.
On a tearful day, the boy of books sells his last quarter of stock that strides
In the minds of readers who are wealthy and powerful and mighty.
They are full of sayings and beliefs, so absorbing and absorbed, we have
Imbibed the nature of distress embarking onto relief, a gathering of good.
There is no reversible cry, no full measure of crime, no full distress of dismay,
Just he is convinced that we are happier than animals and primitive men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem