Standing here in the shining sun, I
look upon my past
Into the days when i was a sun,
Into the days of my mast.
Clad in black I carried
those clad in black,
until that bright morning
when something went black.
Decrepitude has wrapped me
And mortality will give the litmus test.
But I have a history
which will always.
make me a limousine even when I take rest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem