Now all our yesterdays are gone
(The bane of many sorrows)
Those passions we could not restrain
As moths before a naked flame
Snared by pleasure, pierced with pain
A sad and hopeless quandary
Now all our sorrows are as one
(The scourge of many people)
Poured upon a single soul
Accursed that we might be made whole
As judgement took its final toll
The hope of all and sundry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem