And we just speak.
Speak politics, speak philosophy, speak history.
We contemplate; ships on the oceans drown in breeze.
We fail to act and pass in forgetting.
And we just speak.
Remembrance is a poor thing. It's old and weak.
We create souls in our mouth and leave them questing nest.
They fail to live and in peace they rest.
And we don't know what we say.
This is today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem