The human life is mystery
It is a Russian roulette
Full of stories and events
The day you were born
The year you were born
Certainly are flag ones
The day and year you will exit
In ink they been inscribed
In some pages in book of life
You never really will know
How long you will ever live
This in the realm of unknown
You will not survive forever
The eighties and nineties of age
For most it is the final red mark
Few live years further
You may be a centenarian
A fete worth celebration
Hope you are sound and healthy
Enjoy with whom you really love
The tiny flames of hundred candles
For the Guinness World book
Very few become super-centenarian
But how the quality of life then?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem