Time beats on through all of us.
Building us up
Only to tear us to pieces.
But why should I consent
To be content
With falling all away?
So build a monument
Made of me
For all thereafter to blindly see
But buildings sink into the dust,
Wood rots away,
While metals rust,
So what might be
My legacy
That I may leave behind?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem