What essence is life
When the destiny is morning dew
The gestation and labour anguish
Becomes regretful experience
When the sun disperses the morning cloud
Vanity is truly life
That escapes like a smoke
Leaving behind stubbles
While the crop is gone.
(Sunday,15/10/2023,2.12, pm)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem