Young folk think to live forever.
At least I thought that way.
I saw my days as countless stars,
lined up in bright array.
Young folk think to live forever.
At least I thought that way.
Endless on were my tomorrows.
It seemed no harm to waste today.
Young folk think to live forever.
At least I thought that way.
Until my stars became bright fleeting birds,
I could not persuade to stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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