The seed of life,
which grows in us.
Small and fragile,
but growing fast.
The flower of youth,
at full bloom.
Strong and beautiful
but yet it's doomed.
The fruit of growth,
what taste it has.
Bitter and sad,
The taste of death.
The life of us,
a simple play.
It'll come, It'll go
But will never stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem