I must speak more wisely than I have spoken,
with each old word my reality became fixed,
wilderness of world rarely sought,
I must revitalize my claim, wisdom,
elusive as a firefly's zagging flame.
The tongue, a tiring instrument,
must be the first to teach and tame,
prolific in themes of love, not hate,
minds open or narrow, the thread the same
loosed from fear then, in true understanding debate,
freed from self-evil which control our fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is perfect! , I wish I could write like this...