The unsophisticated unsung song travels in the upper class street.
The crash helmet Motorcyclist very pleasingly gave her a lift.
Fuel is more than enough it seems for the unending journey via dreamy state
Stealthily they embrace each other and the bike goes as a unicorn towards
The Forlorn hope where in the stature of symposium.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a fascinating word painting. Very surreal, but also very original. Write on, Nimal. Kindest regards, Sandra