The library is a public moment,
In it ruins are tombs and stars of gold;
The gold flashes, a star relaxes the mind
Of ease and compassion, that bends
In the bedroom of the soul.
One has a port called soldiery,
It contains the inner hearts and walls
Of the mind’s library, a sacred monument,
The real punch and kick of the dooms,
And where dining with words elevates you.
The lining of the walls fetches weight
And gravity too sinning, by now it collapses.
Due to the centres of learning,
We mock the jeering crowds of a library
In Alexandria, and fall into a drifting wall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem