The device for the illustrious followers
Is like a time-travelling machine that resides
In the galaxies over the moons and suns.
One habit of the legs is like two hands,
People with sentences reduce the older thoughts,
Their aspects are wild and vivid in their monstrosity.
Some of us fade into non-being, like the rain
On a sunny day, that transfixes the authorities
Or the authors into submission, a cost of health.
But the device resounds in the galaxies,
Ostentatious aspects are outlined by Time,
The worry over it is phenomenal like the rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem