I look at my mortality,
and that of all that is.
From the children playing happily,
to the ocean's deep abyss.
And I know the end is coming,
yet I do not cleanse my soul.
For there's no use now in running,
as the Bringer's bells begin to toll.
And though I've enjoyed my years,
of seeing life's secrets unfurled.
Still I can't quite help but shedding tears,
for the fate of this dying world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem