I thought in intricacies of neurons,
My thoughts on synapses did run.
They were either filled with dark,
Or many filled with sun.
I thought of wild, crazy days,
My neurons went faster and faster,
But when I thought of depressive days,
My synapses fired slower.
I thought of the world situation,
Of the population too plenty.
My neurons said to me,
How grand the mind is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the thought about the thoughts..Grand..