Plagiarism
In our heads
We’ve got brain.
Each carving miracle
Leads thoughts to talking
And walking; finding friend.
There are times, we hear, ‘brain
Is replaced with pile of rotten shit;
Fanatic and rigid and blind to the facts
Of the heat and changes, miracles in skies
Regardless of the seat and place are the ones’.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Much appreciated. Agreed with you.