Time is constant
Though it varies with seconds,
Work is distant
As it takes a far more seconds,
Present is still
Near the mill,
Which grinds thoughts
At time around nil,
And unprocessed doubts
Wouldn't direct the will.
As time is still,
A piece of pill
Vanishes like the chill
Breeze, across the grill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem