Time measured by the ticking
Of the village clock
The bell sounds, striking twelve
And another day is over
Today is lost
Like all the days before
And all the past sleeps
In the bed of time.
Shall I weep for today’s end
And gaze into its open grave
Or look beyond the sinking sun
And wait for what tomorrow brings?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem