Life is never certain,
no future set in stone.
Will you raise a loving family,
or grow old and die alone?
If you could see your future,
would you really take a look?
Wouldn't that spoil the surprise,
ruin the ending of your book?
Coming joys and woes are hidden,
masked from peering eyes.
Would you rather know what's coming,
or prefer the great surprise?
But life is never certain,
that's the way it has to be.
But if you're waiting for the future,
why not wait for it with me?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem