we all have the
propensity for
self analysis
what was wrong
what made it right
as if life depended
on the actions we
have taken
the truth is
in love and life
there is no certainty
the images you have now
are good only as the
next meal on your table
you delight yourself while
it lasts because tomorrow
there maybe none or the
next day you will be gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem