Wishing to stop, and be part of the dead,
despite this committed to forging ahead,
may be quite acceptable till overtaken
by time, in a space where we all are forsaken,
the universe which has exploded expanding
beyond limitations of our understanding,
when forging ahead is no more our agenda,
and like packages we are returned to the Sender,
Intelligence known by the name of Design,
at least that’s the name Godot signs on the line.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem