You say tomorrow, but who knows.
Maybe you'll forget, I think you probably will.
You forget about me seldom,
but tomorrow's few hours away
could devastate everything.
It may now ever come.
What about now?
What's wrong with now?
Why object, why wait,
Why falsely hope this fate?
When? Now?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, jolenish. You may like to read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks