Why does it feel like the moment is mine?
Yet time is not.
Why does it feel like the past is mine?
Yet the future is not.
How can a dream that lasts a lifetime,
Be over in minutes?
Where can I find the time to dream, if not inside my heart?
How does a grain of sand survive - constantly shifting and slipping...?
Slipping through my fingers.
That is my lost moment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem