Once there were cosmic optimists
Who plotted our ascension and redemption
Wider and wider higher and higher
Now there are it seems
Only cosmic pessimists
Who promise us extinction
Long before the ultimate Entropy
For however far and smarter we evolve
We cannot overcome
The death of all stars
And the last long cold
However old we be
We will never be old enough
To outlast all the universe's
Dying stuff.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
world is blocked in greeting and welfare world is chained in stuff of birth and death no new and no old there are ////