The skins were sounding,
Plaintiff pounding,
Summoning all to fire.
Charcoal sticks,
Picture graphics,
Recorded our desires.
We flashed lights,
Waved our flags,
Telling all to come.
Lines were laid
Fathoms deep,
Connecting continents
In their sleep,
With window shoppers
On their streets.
Poles were raised
Along our roads,
Life-lines stretched
Like sweater yarn,
Remember we were warned.
We added stars
To our nights,
With lights of red and green;
Geo-centric, like God,
Heard, but never seen.
From drum to satellite,
We've tried but failed,
We can't get it right.
Still toe to toe,
Face to face,
That's how to
Communicate.
Not by a cloud,
Look to the face,
The culminating
Human race.
There's a passion
In one's eyes,
That one
Can't mistake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem