To the genuity of human thought
And the beauty of human nature
The deepening hope in human actions
With a vision ahead of time
Unrealistic then with a little sign
Dedication for the unforeseen growth
For the human race she give up the rope
She foresaw a Great hope
To the dawn full of cold dew
Glooming designs in recent times
An arrow with a precise focal point
The archer aiming not to destroy
All mammals feed by breast
Maintained tradition enjoyed by the race
Monalisa was meant to be Great
But the artists no longer even imitate
But the outcome of their expertise
Is the illusive imaginary cast of their prey
Oh Lord! could this lead into a fray?
So, as the tradition upturned and grey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem