Farthest sun,
Closest moon,
Brings the light and the night.
The past,
The present,
Filled with life
And some with strife.
The rich,
The poor,
One just surviving
The other thriving.
A saint,
A sinner,
The difference being
One repenting
The other not yet relenting.
The living,
The dead,
Is it to Heaven?
Or, to their dread?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem