perhaps i must
disagree on that,
that beauty lies
in the way we put
order to a mess,
pillows on the bed
blankets well folded
clothes hang,
outside the stars
twinkle in random
no lines in this
universe no queue
a list of data items,
commands, etc.,
stored so as to be
retrievable in a definite
order, usually the order
of insertion
beauty lies in
chaos, in volcanic
eruptions where
molten lava flows
and in spontaneity
freezes to the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem