Beauty is not meant to last.(waking to a rising sun, sleeping to a setting one, passing from day to night is a sight of pleasure until I'm done.) Otherwise, it'd be ordinary.(seeing with eyelids shut an oncoming of the infinite and eternal, 'someday' they say, catching up is something infernal.)
Life is beautiful
Death is ordinarily dreadful
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem