From where I come, the city of hum drum,
It had a distinct street culture, which we loved to joke and puncture.
While walking on the street, you could suddenly stand and stop,
Look up in the sky and ponder all alone,
Soon a puddle of men will gather, and all will lend you their souls,
All will sync in harmony looking up to the heavens above.
I would then slither away, like an earth worm in muddy clay,
The group will keep on growing,
Gazing the heavens, and finding a way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem