Behold our world is a world of gray,
Broken apart and scattered away.
All who are actors, act in this play;
This theater of nothingness.
Meaningless; what purpose has meaning?
Mangled together and endlessly dreaming.
All who are dancers, dance in this play;
This drama of nothingness.
Tangled and tried we lie close together,
Troubled, terrified, alone.
Is there one who will save us? oh save us you Savior;
Save us from this nothingness.
Love is our stitching, Someone our seam,
Belief is our Hope and our beautiful Dream.
You who believe, believe in this play;
For inside Life is true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.' -From Macbeth (V, v,19) i thought of this