days and years have marched on
and often bitterness
and regret
seem more alluring
in the contemplation
of events that have passed
the voice screams there
at all who have tricked and manipulated
and curses at memories
of tricky chance and mishaps
but there is calm at the cycle's end
flying in and resting
like a little bird at the window
it is quiet insight:
all is well as evening descends
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem