What man has made unmade beds bend time.
Master, master who am I to say,
I say master, master to an early grave,
you laid down the rules for firtle man and women know.
Now these seven billion where to go,
the worlds no longer home their minds have run away.
How far have you come,
never some say inside that book of man
some one wrote
he could not read or right before death.
I know knowledge is not free though free you are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem