What really indeed is this life?
An endless chain of trial and strife
All that you'd deeply long to remain
Merely mocks and ends in pain
All that heart to itself dearly prest
Immaculate as sacred and blest
In the vast desert of vain desires
Mocking mirage that quickly disappears;
In the tortuous path of life's journey
Where all is tainted with misery
Fondest bonds do end in sorrow -
Grim reminder for the morrow -
And sweetest dreams perish in dust.
Is there anything on which you can trust?
Many a man dies of broken heart -
Cruel nature's delightful art.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed it. Even though it's bad that the rhyme is a little fuzzy in the middle.