Rolling out of warm inner space
Soulful entity wobbling on couch
With no handy clutch and brakes
Ushered in gaseous envelope
Tuned by myriads of devices
Catapulted on the frame of time
With changing flux of stoichiometry
And love for newness of approach
Racing steadily on sigmoid course
Drooping gently on quietness
Without any regret of losses
In limbo of dark matter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem