Slow by degrees
Though fast in miles
If near to it be.
The wintry hoar
Below
The tempest subdues
Now
As lights of midnight
Glow.
Time passes
Time passes
All things look so far
To come
But soon they come
But soon they pass
And we.
We humans with empty hands
Are left in discontent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem