When a child is born,
in the bliss and the excitement,
just like in a new day break,
with the uncertainity of the new day,
that's the way life is.
And then gtandually, slowly,
like in a twisting terrain,
the sky line evaporates,
clouds scatters all over above,
sometimes a vast blue appears,
that too is the way life is.
The old man watches in amazement,
as the sun slowly go down,
unable to fathoam 'e days or years,
alone in the yard he wonders:
where have the years gone?
that also is the way life is
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem