Life hangs on life inner,
It corroded the life we have told,
Just death brings all time a shove,
Then shovels and buckets are of colours,
The life has gained me a prize of streams of life.
It was geometric progression on a massive scale,
It was beautiful breaking an oath now.
Life has bent its head on the body of joy,
An exact opposite of the heavenly bodies in space,
In space you read a sign.
In space you have life, life is away,
Like the living ones who discuss their nightmares.
Of this life then the living know meaningful dreams,
Dreams of life have sung joyously like a statue and sculptor.
Life has inner quality,
And we agree to the quality that brings joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice flow, well put together.