In many ways, we are still suffering
From our forced exile from the pure Garden.
Perhaps that why we poets feel the need
To create. We are constantly searching
For a kind of wholeness; which we have been
Denied. In dreams, I still perceive weary
Troubadours of the Light wandering through
The darkness of the stifling centuries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem