Hale-Bopp, Hale-Bopp, my favorite comet
Had an alien spacecraft flying upon it.
Was an obsession of Heaven's Gate, a sect of fools.
Who'd disposed of all of their money and jewels.
I hate like hell your dreams to fracture
But there ain't no such thing as The Great Rapture.
Too bad, but there isn't any special way
To predict that it will happen on a certain day.
If ever, so go on and take your misguided lives
Maybe you'll win out if the soul survives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem