All in all within
We speak and yet we spin,
All our wonderings while
Each word performed in style;
And what it is not now
It shall not make a dow,
For things are what they are
A perfect or a scar.
A start in moment fresh
That becomes less and less,
As years drive through the pain
Each one of them will fain;
Or echo quite differently
Form what we thought it to be,
A pain in it's own shell
Or something we couldn't tell.
All in all within
Our thoughts and our sin,
That makes us write more
To bring our boat ashore;
A step by step with time
From what is within begrime,
Where it becomes independent
From each and every attendant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nicly done.......................