when i look back into my past,
it seems to me,
i have tried so much,
i have got so much,
but, sooner or later,
i always come to the conclusion that,
all i fought so hard for,
were trivial things,
just some infatuations of mine.
I didn't gave myself any time to decide,
what really matters the most to me...
Even now,
while i lay on my bed,
staring at the gloomy ceiling,
i keep questioning myself-
have i come to know or not,
what really matters the most?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem