Oh twinkling fiery star so bright
You've lent your spirit to the night
From the grandeur of your presence
Time and space acquired its essence
But man, you have been so trifling
Since your birth you have been dying
Normally, three scores is your fling
Always a dusty underling.
What great designs you fill?
Which happenstance is very nil?
And when your scene is fully played
Beneath these stars you will be laid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem