They say remembering is an act of recreation,
We can only grasp gist of a situation.
That gist depends on our biases and preceptions.
And every minute, every second is plagued with distractions.
How can we be sure we lived these moments,
When everything that can be wrong, is wrong.
We can not trust our own mind, our own intuition
There is room for doubt in every situation.
How can we be sure, we lived this life right.
When the present is past and we can't remember it right.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem