If accolades come to be bestowed,
Upon anyone 'this' hour...
The following hour,
Whatever was done...
Will be forgotten.
And left to rot like a fossilized rock.
If it doesn't shimmer with bling,
To blaze after a constant buffering...
For some there will be no historic significance,
To remember who did what, why and when...
If not done immediately to impress,
With a value to leave an hypnotic effect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem