You may float into oblivion if you're caught in outer-space,
Without your safety gadgets and your underwear in place,
You'd fly through unknown galaxies, at twice the speed of sound,
Screaming that you'd left your keys and credit cards around.
Unable to get back to earth, you'd hurtle passed black holes,
And maybe even passers-by, looking for their souls,
And on your way to heaven, for that's where heaven's supposed to be,
You'll be sick in your space helmet, from the stuff you ate for tea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem