A demure man asks no thoughts from me,
An effervescent potion of knowledge includes me
As a starting package for more solutions to life.
Wisdom evokes sympathy and dread, too fine points.
My drums collect dew from the air
And I hear such beautiful maths;
A desultory tune starts to be sensed,
Fulfilling the felicity of life itself.
I am your actual epiphany,
I am a seeing man of intellect if subdued
And outwitted enough for the arts
Of collections and the models of property.
Demure men and women seek self-knowledge
When ripe fruit plucks and transgressions flee
From us and the battlefield, a most tragic site
For the wicked and brave - a bravery lies in store.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem