Strike the iron whilst still hot,
Before old time ebbs away;
Nor days draw near with hurt,
Where you see no gladness again.
The blissful Sun one day darkens,
And the moon's rays fade;
Night stars cease to be brazen,
Pain and sorrow etch the age.
Once prised time slithers past,
Even the might of the house tremble;
For with much rest is bred rust,
The folly of thinking time is ample.
Be astute with time my daughters;
Enjoy what each day gives;
And remember tomorrow also matters,
But for the chance passed do not grieve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful poem of living in the moment and of having no regrets? Beautifully expressed Kuda.