Life is the sure bondage of mortuaries,
Weeping in the still living flesh.
The thermostat of life plummeting,
While counting up the deaths day by day.
Giving precious hours getting nothing in return;
The clocks hands are not a charity,
The calendar is not a mission of mercy-
These lines are not from laughing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
amen, sister.... and i have plenty of them!