Time has gone very swift and pomp,
The dews on the feathery nylon,
The freshly oozed scent of a dream,
Everything here blooms and wilts,
Time has no antidote, but the silts,
Settled gently with no further thud,
Whatever those perished, suddenly,
Appear as the new buds and kids,
The dried canals cunningly flooded,
Supplement the rest with residual,
Alert, nothing here is durable,
Except the dust, steam and the streams,
Crying and screaming may console,
When time has scratched your heart,
Drinking and sleeping may mislead,
When the time has the sun shade,
Cheating and lies are the normal practices,
When the time is hallucinated with the booze,
Time is a bitter friend, but a sweet criminal,
It mimics, flaunts, haunts and never rests.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No one can match the games Time plays.Nice write.Liked it.