Is he who cares nothing

Of the points of time or

The space restrictions;

His life is self-sufficient

To the end of the chapter.

The sagely minded writer

Asks for mostly nothing

Outside of his thoughts,

Working on day and night,

Like the factory of nonstop

Observation, development,

Research and delivering up.

Boils down to the exercise

Of his overwhelmed mind:

When his mind starts to stir up,

In no time the world starts to move,

Pursuing a preemptive tactic

And becoming more practical

In continuation of its anticipations

And tending to the Infinity

Rather than turning back

To ephemeral now yesterday.

For this mere reason, the world

Has never been mapped out

By any special characteristics,

Neither has an end ever been

Put to it by someone from here

Or from far away there; hence,

Its entirety remains intact

By the total chaos -- the cradle

And the essence of ordering

Reigned, like in the universe,

In the overwhelmed heart

Of the sagely minded poet.