when a glass of water is turned upside down
there grows a hill of sanskrit words
all terraces of her body
are painted with the life-lines
of the dismantled electric-bulbs
the window-screen of those coiffures
on which the tom-toms are arranged
by the sound of the original drum-beats
can run faster than the blue conch
when those information are fed
into a lady-computer
on her screen there appears the picture
of an unknown planet
after surfing it is also known
that from there the rose originates
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem