Lonely slumber in winter night,
Ideas travel with deserted reason,
Up spine they hike,
No question nor treason,
Deep imagination powered by stars,
No oxygen exhaling,
Only scars,
Ship string round the neck,
Or remedies on the ship deck,
What ever posses the computer is a glitch,
The DNA is damaged,
And the adrenaline is hitched,
Others enter,
Others stay,
The tear is the air we breath,
Some say everything happens for a reason,
Others may dismay.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem