Upon this world we are of fixed hue,
Of just black, just white, or of just brown,
And together old we grow, as were once new,
And do with us they bloom, as with us they frown;
In neither gloom nor luster, ever do they part,
As together born, together we turn to dust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So true Betelhem we are all the same in the end thnx for sharing.