I get up to go
For lately I have learned
That there is no promise
In this waiting, this exchange;
Better to pass to another table,
Or else, out into the black night,
Or, into the cloudy afternoon,
Or, into the sterile sunlight
To see the happy faces.
Who knows what chance may bring,
It has brought so much before;
In one's desperation
One must be kind to oneself
And endure;
To survive
Until the fruits
Of tomorrow
Arrive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To survive Until the fruits Of tomorrow Arrive Touched!