Lowered before you, look not
Down upon this face.
Haunted by a dream, ascribe
Rather its cowering cause
As to what seers describe
For a time and place.
Silent before you, snap not
Your fingers at me.
Digesting your truth, lay blame
Of this tranced language instead
On what crystal gazers name
For God's what's to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem