He searches for beauty, only finds despair
He craves for love but gets loathing
He peruses for knowledge, flees his sanity
Dies to remain happy, peeps sadness timely
Life has beauty, yet it is scarce beautiful
What is life then, an enigma?
Life is a flowing river, no routine track
It totes obstacles but has no stop
. It creates after ruin, destroys after creation.
Man ponders to fathom its actuality
And yields to, eureka! It's a mystery
Life itself is a mystery, we are mysterious.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Life itself is a mystery, good poem, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.