I have very often wondered
Whether my deeds really mattered,
Or whether life was just absurd.
With its preordained peaks and lows,
Life, is written in divine prose,
From its start to its tragic close.
But then I came to realize
That the sun continued to rise
Shifting colors before my eyes.
As I thought about that decree
Life was born and life ceased to be,
And all ignorant beings ran free.
So now I breathe on, and live on
Although I am but a mere pawn.
There’ll always be another dawn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think this is kind of interesting. Your last two lines express the paradox of the whole piece-even if 'everything's determined', there's still dawn-which we experience as a SPONTANEOUS cosmic event, that takes us beyond cold logic!