I take so many tablets, I rattle when I move
Things to keep me going, to help my life improve
I do not work without them, they keep the death away
Until the time I pop my clogs, there's no more I can say
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Life can derive its purpose and beauty from so many things. How can one survive without these props. It is indeed a philosophical quagmire. Thanks.