Time keeps tick ticking,
Slipping away from me.
Minutes slip into hours,
Hours to days, days to weeks
Weeks to months, months to years
Preying upon my fears
Death is coming I know it,
I feel his cold breath in the air,
I feel his footsteps tremble the earth,
I taste him in the staleness of water,
I see him in the fading embers of fire,
My spirit quakes and trembles at his approach.
Sickness makes my body weak,
Robbing me of the will to eat
And drink, to get up and live.
And yet he stands there,
Not looking at me but at his watch
Telling me it is not time yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem