Our life is a book
Each phase a chapter
Then the birth and death
Represent prologue and epilogue.
But unlike the book
Life goes only one way
A person can visit pages back
Only in memories and thoughts.
We can't amend past
We can't foresee future
A reason strong enough
To grasp only the present.
Despite this we continue
To loathe and live the past
And keep pondering the future
Unable to live the beautiful present.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is so much truth in your words.Beautiful poem.