What are we, beyond our bodies,
The eyes, mouth, and hair?
Is there truly something unique there?
I'm not so sure.
Because outside of blinking,
Eating, and fixing, why are we here?
Nothing else to do; when gone,
No one cares.
Born believing magic in the world,
That all of us serve special purposes,
Until seeing the truth;
We survive, tire,
Then everyone and everything continues.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem