A compulsive habit- is to - breathe,
When firmly suited with this air
A drug of waning opulence
Administered with a doctor's care.
To die- The surest way to go,
Successive, sweetling, and pain free
Just taking gulps- addictive grabs,
And let the time construe- with thee.
Addicts aren't just human shapes.
A beetle- with the greatest care
Conspicuous- great natures spy
Unfolds his sails and treads on- air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Air is a compulsory addiction for every living being. A wonderful poem, a unique idea.......10.10.