Within a single room,
He searched the world with a broom.
Each pieces move apart,
Not in a way to depart.
The room was of a boy
The boy was not a toy.
He dragged the pieces together,
Never let them to wither.
What he did was incorrect,
Authorities tried to correct.
People dictated an order,
But the poem is in his order!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cyril sir, U Rock as always......wish i could write something like that...... An Elegant and peculiar thought crafted beautifully and meticulously.....keep on writing Sirrrr............