At the end of every day
There is the question
Of whether there will be another
We cannot know for certain
No matter how young and healthy we are
At the end of the day
Is sleep
And sleep is a question
And no one knows for certain
That they will awake in the next day
But nonetheless tired
We lay our heads down on the pillow
And dream tomorrow
We will still be alive
Even more alive
Than we were and no longer are- today
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a lullaby for the alive, wonderfully penned