Life runs fast.
Present becomes past.
Things slowly last.
Life is just like a gift.
We remember the day
when we cross the way.
Fastness of life persist.
Either in rest or on the busy road.
moves always
on the way of desire.
If you want to reach early
on the goal
fast the pace
with a control in race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem