At the bank of life sits a teller we call death
Who waits patiently for us to pay our dues
But life is too short and the pleasures are few
Life is a loan that’s too expensive
It comes with a repayment deadline
That cannot be extended
It is but a sea of sorrow
And a river of joy
We hold on to faith and trust in prayer
Yet life is a product sure to expire
Death is the price we pay
To exist in a world in which we cannot stay…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem