What is life; more than a delay between past and future?
What is future; when life is nothing more than a halt?
Is there anything at all? These thoughts work as a torture,
If it is nothing, is it anyone’s fault?
Did we mess up in the past?
Or are we not as important as we think?
Maybe we should enjoy it as long as it lasts,
And what if it is over in a blink?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem