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Writing & Translation

Poetry Writer

To live is to breath?
Who knows what it really means;
All, with no exceptions
Born here upon this land
After sucking the blood & flesh
Of our mothers for months nine.

After we take birth
Our training begins
For years to follow
Until the desire to fly
Is born within our soul.

The Question
What is it to live?
Looks at us in hope
That we may find
What only sages could unlock,
Yet couldn't prove anything
What science asked!

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