like a solitary hawk,
the ages winged its way
across the bay
of the time,
while the haughty tides of the time
splashed spittle on our lives.
not even a nibble of good grief
nor pleasure gone
with a single fling.
all anew cling
to our chores and bid us:
'come, we can bid or time'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem