It seemed the look was alone in space,
After the rigours of six days and six nights;
A creating took place, his eyes munched up much,
With zeal and an appeal for the rewards.
But His Creator was indignant and kept on passing,
Yet the men of this throwing object talented in it,
Revealing a world of war and peace together,
No sleep occurred with resentment in the heat.
You may have taken a tablet last night,
Standing by the recliner tonight,
Then in a symptom of success so
Wavered by the real lights of islands in space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem