Time has a habit in these parts
to show that it's been crafted
from tardiness and irresponsibility.
Its unexpectedness akin to farts
and when it devastates, one's shafted
yet many do regard it a facility.
Which it is not, because, my friend
when need is greatest it will fail,
by playing with its punctuality,
a child of time, anaemic, also pale
will in the final, very end
just take its life to kill its misery
and once it goes things will be bleak
without the time you're up the creek.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Everything must come to an end sometime....nicely written!