Oh King, how far different from one another,
art the things thou hast now done,
and, but a short while before.
That, now, having pronounced thyself a happy man,
thou art shedding now such baleful tears.
Saith He, 'Yes, for after I had reckoned up,
it came into my mind to feel pity...
the thought of howbrief was the whole life of Man,
Seeing that of these multitudes
not a single one will be left alive,
when a hundred years have passed us by.
April 1974
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem