One merry day confesses after us,
After we describe the goals we create,
As we consider the arguments of life.
Then well-being connives and concentrates,
Inside our minds, with fulfilment,
Without our menacing traits.
This day concerns us as we delight in it,
Yesterday conceives our ideas,
Yesterday is not tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem