And now, when the closing winds of time blow,
And History its boring repetition creaks.
When the protagonists silently exit the stage
And Eternity peers in the window of time;
When time herself becomes fleetingly precious
Like the rare and valued jem cut from the rock.
And the Kings of the earth tremble their fears.
O, sIr, why do you this litany of woes sing;
Why do you your head bow like the fallen grass?
Ay, the fleeting shadows encourage little promise
As the eras of time falter over man's folly
And History its boring repitition creaks-
O passing time that evaporates like thin air,
Why from us has your substance departed?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem