To fly,
Is grace.
Humans,
Are fools.
To say,
Flying?
It is
A science.
To fly,
Is grace.
Just a random poem with two syllables per line and two lines per stanza. I know it doesn't make a whole lotta sense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I live in Bristol. We had Concorde. I liked the theory of your poem though!