It's a tryingly featured world to be in,
In which every restless heart minds
Pleasant principal affairs of its own;
Where spurned soul no solace finds.
It's an unresting space to occupy,
Where every stirring brain thinks
Of its own idiosyncratic concerns;
Where tired limbs totter on brinks.
It's an interesting place to have share
In unique diaries of fellow sojourners,
Sparing oneself yet giving some part
To other mortals of diverse manners.
It's a pretty striking existence to pass
Best seasons doing stuff you'll leave,
And still feel okay despite knowledge
You'll lose all fiscal efforts that peeve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem