Waiting for no-one it surges on
No pause for thought,
Or batting an eyelid,
Never generous. Almost gone.
The evidence is left upon your face
Though the eyes deny,
Chances not taken,
Regrets mount. We cry.
It doesn't cease but endures
It's reach is long,
Steadfast through the seasons,
Ticking on. Ticking on...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem