When we were born, we were pure.
Now we live lies, that we decide.
When we grow old, we die swift.
Now we can say, we lived life.
Years gone pass, when they reminisce.
They can know, what pride is.
What life is, what they are.
They can too, live that lie.
When they pasted, our way of life.
They can too, change their past.
Last of breath, last of hopes.
Last of life, last of lies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem