Fragments of sounds and lyrical syllabes,
Expressions of duality steaming from the non-dual,
Are randomly sitting in palatial stanzas,
Sculpting one more poem.
Life unravels its lurks and knots,
Making its nature visible and fragrant,
Beauty potting words,
Thoughts going back to their roots.
That serum which is embodied in writing,
Is in itself fluid Spirit, spilled over
In bricks of mysterious language,
Paving the Eden of Beingness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem