Each time is of summer or winters bright
Of love and compassion so temperate
New morning of feelings that comes with light
That everything thereon must generate
Our life is to behold its bouquets vow
And give of its meaning each day some more
For the time that we have is only of now
For nothing of this life is ever for yore
Each summer shall pass into its fading way
And give us autumn of memories dust
For time that we behold shall never stay
Therefore me must give and our heart trust
We for these instances like buds of May
In each our working of reverie and play
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem