It won't be stopped!
It is like a terrorist.
It destroys and takes.
It is filled, yet empty.
I look up distracted,
and the sun is setting.
Night brings mourning,
and grief and regret.
I marked my calendar
that I might remember
a most essential task.
Did I forget the goal?
Was it about building
something to defend,
something important,
till fire melts the sky?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem