In this while,
do I sit,
Crack my
head,
On a lone
field,
Life grip
me firm.
Longer
than mile,
My eyes
glance,
Gazing the
wind flow,
Life mute my
understanding.
A bone of
contention,
It is become
lean,
Thoughts of
the aged,
A Wanderer
in my head,
Fingers of
confusion,
A civil servant
inside of me.
Life goes on,
Like a perpetual
existence,
Where death
never be,
Imperfection
not known,
A life on plain
slate,
Where the
wishes of
all men are
made real.
Life goes on,
A song of
all men,
That swim
the most,
Deepest
River of life,
Holding firm
a story to tell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem