we live our lives
on the cusp of uncertainty
teetering on the brink
a breath away from death
we grasp as if we can hold
gold or love or glory
the land can fall away
the air can vanish
and all the worlds gold
will not buy a single day
nor stop love's deceit
quixotic and mercurial
the brash sun rises
mindlessly confident
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem