'What can man do, amidst life's plodding pace?
Life's fleeting breath, a brief, shining space,
Too short to grasp, yet filled with dreams untold,
But what can man do, as youth grows old?
Like green leaves at birth, we unfurl with might,
But soon, we wither, worn by life's plight,
Pain and sorrow creep, as age takes its toll,
But what can man do, with a heart that's grown old?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem