Sickly the sickle caged you,
A crooked cell the doctor quipped,
Your time here could be shrunken,
Timely, thankfully, now you know,
For truncated, surely it would have,
If not now known, and be managed.
So be afraid; not of death, but of life,
For the first is sure, not so the latter:
Take to life; grip it, living it to the hilt,
And to death; the shadowy fate, boot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem