Find here
From subtle to gross.
Sound developed in to sky
If you want you can fly.
Touch developed in to air
Everything is fair.
Form developed in to fire
It is Your world, go on sir.
Taste developed in to water
I find You here in everything, my dear.
Smell developed in to earth
No death but recycling berth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem