Day by day then night,
Voice left in somewhere flight;
All is gone for ever more,
Nothing was for real or sure.
Then it's past or going,
Like the summer's glowing;
With fires that once burned,
Memories of no returned.
With a shadow like a name,
Burning burning passing flame;
What will recognition know,
When distant self must grow.
Purpose proper on the road,
What to time was bestowed;
Every thought one achieves,
Like the shallow broken leaves.
Night by night then a day,
Everything in a rustic play;
What must go must be again,
Or each creation is in vain.
Meet up with the roads gone,
All the sights seeds paragon;
Flowering in thoughts new,
Tomorrow's dawn fresh dew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem