I've done and should have done,
reminisce and regret,
turn the past around,
see the future past,
at tail of life,
the tale is mine.
Behind the knife that stabs the heart,
there lies a heart,
there lies a soul,
veiled in sheets of steepened choice,
pilot or passenger often be.
In past of shouts of joy around,
there lies the cries,
there lies the pain,
steps the saviour not retake,
in dark its corner often be.
The future is here and whence to come,
today it is,
the past it is,
reminisce and regret all over again,
of the future that pass
of the past in the future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem