The weak light of tomorrow
that comes with its glow,
its hope and its sorrow
like mountains in snow.
Let moments not leave
that give of its touch,
for life is too brief
and love gives so much.
Our hope comes and goes
into futures coming,
and nobody really knows
each their root and blooming.
For that is the future
of mankind going on,
its dream and its suture
until it's all done.
Life passions and its ways
are all from inside here,
they go to the days
and be blossoms everywhere.
And so, it is with hope
and every love song,
It shall conquer and cope
and pass its ways along.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem