Impermanence threatens-
It's thoughts in our head;
A certain disconsonance
Of feet on our bed.
We'd give up these games,
If peace came for free-
And sat on our shoulders-
Or dropped us a key.
If answers could come
Like visitors- with flowers-
We'd know what to do
With these dull, witless hours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem