In a cold of space there is no sound
That in mischief can be found.
Prank on those who think it's not
Just another scoundrel act.
Hurt on those who can't adapt.
They must perish or be trapped.
Look alike their dreams must be.
Deuce won't sleep, so why won't thee.
Keeping sane - it is not hard,
'cause in space there is no sound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem