The fire burns this golden hour.
Behold look to the clock for clues.
As time itself will describe.
Inscribed on the charred and stained.
Forcing memories to be retained.
I can't, I must not, I won't forget.
An etching upon the cliff.
Only a simple climb to see.
Hand, by hand, stone by stone.
Work and reward.
The kind of earnings that go unheard.
Not jingle in the pocket but instead in the mind.
It can not be stolen, at least by greed.
But age does wear you down,
If it does not you are a god among men.
And I bow to you with one request.
Share the secret of everlasting youth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem