I take what never can be taken,
Touch what cannot be;
I wake what never could awaken,
But for me.
I go where only winds are going,
Kiss what fades away;
I know a thing too strange for knowing,
I, the clay.
Extraordinary. True poetic insight. Only very good poets can, This clay did.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem about the Poet. I like it