You open your eyes at morning - and again:
The chirping birds outdoors do play,
Do jump from bough to bough, fly
High into heaven... And the day
Is filled with rays of glaring sun.
You open your eyes - and once again
You are in the mysterious role in this play,
Which have some reason and, of course, beginning...
The end may be either close or distant...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem