An interminable pathway leading nowhere,
An endless river leading into areas unexplored,
An uncertain voyage exploring uncharted waters,
Life is a journey of uncertainty,
An unpaved highway into mysterious obstacles,
Never explored by generations before.
It's a novel consisting of unwritten pages,
Waiting to be filled with pen and ink,
Recording every moment of the journey;
The pages filled containing the past,
But the blank pages hold the future,
Eternally enigmatic and unpredictable,
Flexible to any change coming its way.
We, however, are the writers of our stories,
Writing each memory, each anecdote,
We recall from our individual pasts.
We create our own adventures,
Forming new memories each day
Like illustrations in an ancient manuscript.
Although we are the authors of our stories,
We must choose the genres we desire them to be;
Whether they are memorable novels or
Paragraphs in a backpage article is
Entirely our decision because
Life is, after all, what we make it to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem