Stone, earth, wood, metal
All are one and fatal.
We see so called gods
In all the above,
Though, gods are
Not really there
We know.
Air water
All are ours.
And yet, we pollute them
Always to show
Our ego.
Who we are, we know not,
And yet, we rub the time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think the ending is marvellous. Rub the time is a great phrase.