And
death, you skip not a year
and so you come everytime a man were
older or were to clock a new age.
Your time is never at vantage
with the sanguinity of our will
except we have had life to our fill.
We cannot brim infinity, infact,
at times, you are a didact.
But how about an infant's life
only just five?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem