Spilling over the rim,
With overflowing grim details...
On a daily basis these days,
Is enough for anyone...
To wish for those cups,
Once desired to be filled to the brim...
To hurry and empty up.
And be thrown away in disgust.
With a looking elsewhere,
To measure the degree of their fortunes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem