Permanence is but a heavenly dream,
Oh, so rare, so pristine, forlorn!
But lasting is not for the mortal stream,
The stream that has life to adorn;
Upon the sad face of Truth gleam Lies,
That Truth that has times to transcend,
And fraught is every word written that descries,
Its author, who has the Truth to bend;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem