My bones are stone,
And my words are the hymn.
Always I am telling the truth,
But the truth, nowhere to be found.
I am covered by the clouds,
The clouds have their own strength,
But I kick them out with my
Imagination - good.
I have my own recurring deposits,
Shapes are words and languages,
I used with great pleasure
Taking help of memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem