The time we are given to do what it is,
Seems...
Isn't enough.
It does not seem enough.
The time we are given to do those things,
We wish for us someday would bring...
To appear as if through the thinnest of air.
Seems...
Isn't enough.
For us it just doesn't seem enough.
And yet we sit in accepted procrastination.
Hesitating with that time we get...
To make excuses,
For not doing that what is wished.
Or making plans to have it fit,
With that time given,
To allow it.
The time we are given to do what it is,
Seems...
Isn't enough.
It does not seem enough.
But a wasting of it many do not admit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem