Regrets, regrets, regrets
You can never get enough of them
You can’t run from them
You cant’ hide from then
You’ll never have the time to decide
Whether or not it will become one
You’ll end up blowing like a leaf in the wind
You will wither
Wither until you’re gone
Unless you can pick yourself up from the dangerous fall
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem