This hand, Time's, extends
As gift-giver
Be quick, each golden chance
To snatch from out.
Of Love's butterfly-wing
Left in no doubt!
Heeding, by what blows
Lifelong across
For Change. Coldly unswayed
By pleas to stop.
Her late bloomer's! Come, gone
Whom flapped a fop!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem