On the second she was born,
And on the second that he died,
Never escaped them that that was the very second
Everything mattered the most,
Nonetheless, it was just a second later,
Them all thoughts were far from that,
From the second you read
The very first verse,
And the finishing words
Laying last in line,
Many were the seconds,
Where everything mattered,
But in seconds next,
Was nothing more
But the sly memory,
Of the such important seconds,
For we all share a strange bond
To the atomic precision of the second,
But is only here and there,
That we ever give it a second thought
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem