Let me describe my new plan for my every reader.
I want to compose one million poems in one year.
One year will finish when million poems are over.
I know its a great catastrophe for my dear reader.

But don’t worry my dear readers for this planning.
Each line of each poem will consist of one syllable.
One syllable is made up of several hundred of dots.
Thus each poem will be several hundred of poems.

At this pace million poems is a matter of moment.
My year will have its due death very prematurely.
My dear readers shall have no weight to shoulder.
By a wink of eye is over, over million poems over.

History is in the making; record is in the breaking.
Alphabet is in the cracking; I’m now in the waking.