It may be, you'll hear tales of yore,
From one, who thinks he'd lived before,
but don't you be too quick to find,
That he is quite out of his mind.
It may be, there's some obscure link,
That causes some to realy think,
That they had lived another day.
It may be, that it works, this way:
It may be, all those chromosomes and genes,
Are like the chips, in our machines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem