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Just exactly what is time…
To me I guess
Tis no more or less
An invention of one’s mind
Can one really stay
Or store time away
Save it up
For another day
Can one measure what
Does not exist
No! …No more than store
The morning mist
Are you wasteful when
You let time fly by
And once it’s spent
What did it buy
It has no substance
Less even than a ghost
Yet once it’s gone
Your days are done
And my friend
You’ve become
…toast…
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem