In this world and of this world,
we wonder whence we came and where to
morrow we will soon be whirled
through three score years and ten. Prepare! Two
moments matter, first cry hurled,
and last sigh [m]uttered, spluttered. There, too,
who remembers foetus curled
or corpse encoffined, both as bare to
any here. What flag unfurled
may wake the winds or ever dare to
show true way the world is twirled,
the how, the why, yet still speak fair... Who? ...
In this world indeed. Some say they're in this world but not of it.You might be one of those guys. Good work, Richard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is one of the few times I don't recommend a writing simply because there is really so little there. GW62