Weaved irrevocably in the misfortune of time,
Catching off guard with the untimely arrival,
Seems so unreal to be true.
Certainly all must endure in a matter of time,
‘A matter of time’ is so vague to be certain.
Why death swings between the absurdity of certainty and uncertainty?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem