What is time
but a simple breath?
A tick, a tock,
or an endless death?
When does it start
and when does it end?
How do we know
if it is foe or friend?
Ends our pain
or sustains our joy?
Does time create,
or does it destroy?
Is time slow
or is time fast?
Is it brief
or does it last?
What is time
but a mystery?
Awaiting future
or history?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem