from a big pile of
paper works
you turn on the music
gangnam style
you face the mirror
gaze at your increasing
wrinkles
your haggard look
and crumpled shirt
and you switch to loud
music
and then dance.
who cares? the world is
full of music
and this body wants to
dance
raise your hands to the
ceiling
touch God
He is there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem