Our minutes and our hours
Weave threads of many dyes
Some yarns so tightly knotted
They cannot be untied
Our minutes and our hours
Are cloth that marks our lives
Sometimes a shielding garment
Sometimes a stifling vise
Our minutes can be precious
Or squandered like coarse wool
Our hours can be cherished
Or drowned by tempter’s pull
Our friends and foes are textures
Of interlacing strands
And those whose love still lingers
Like silken, golden bands
Our minutes and our hours
Are set in numbered runs
In a more cunning fabric
Than human hands have spun
Our minutes and our hours
Weave threads of many dyes
Some yarns so tightly knotted
They cannot be untied.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Liila, Estonia's gift to Florida, I love your poetry, 'like silken, golden bands', your poems are certainly silken! ! ! !