Because we do not know when we'll die. We get to think of life as an inexastable will. And yet everything only happens a certain number of times. And a very small number realy. How many more times will you remember a curtain afternoon in your childhood? An afternoon that is so deeply part of your being. That you can't even conceave your life without it. Perhaps 4 or 5 times more. Perhaps not even that. Or how many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps 20. And yet it all seems limitless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem