Grayful aging, gently pushing us forward to a final
destination into a space of life's chess board.
Waking latent desires at fate's curbsides we limply
hold on to what we can't give away.
Sorrowfully noticing our inner waves of knowing are
slipping away, we try to hide them beneath coverlets
of yesterday.
Forward thinking pauses, at separate intervals so we
can approach our destinies without wasting our
moments of lost immortality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem