The small petals of a flower,
Slowly falling as they die,
Reminds me of a clock,
And when that clock strikes twelve,
That is when it dies.
I see that happening all around me,
And I wonder when my time will be up,
When will my clock strike twelve,
When will I die.
I wonder if that clock will continue ticking away,
Or if it just stops,
If it does continue ticking then there isno need to worry,
But if it just stops well then I guess times up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem