"I grant you ample leave 
    To use the hoary formula 'I am' 
    Naming the emptiness where thought is not; 
    But fill the void with definition, 'I' 
    Will be no more a datum than the words 
    You link false inference with, the 'Since' & 'so' 
    That, true or not, make up the atom-whirl. 
    Resolve your 'Ego', it is all one web 
    With vibrant ether clotted into worlds: 
  Your subject, self, or self-assertive 'I' 
  Turns nought but object, melts to molecules, 
  Is stripped from naked Being with the rest 
  Of those rag-garments named the Universe. 
  Or if, in strife to keep your 'Ego' strong 
  You make it weaver of the etherial light, 
  Space, motion, solids & the dream of Time -- 
  Why, still 'tis Being looking from the dark, 
  The core, the centre of your consciousness, 
  That notes your bubble-world: sense, pleasure, pain, 
  What are they but a shifting otherness, 
  Phantasmal flux of moments? --"                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem