Sometimes I
wonder whether
death was the
begining.
Or was it really
life?
What is it,
really,
but a convoluted
circle?
Every time a
new life
begins,
an old,
withered
life ends.
Is life the
begining and
death the
end?
Or is that just
a stereo-typed
old myth
just waiting to
be disproved?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem