Life is the knife
Time is the stone
wearing us out
the meaner we hone.
And there is no end:
the harder we whet
the shorter we grow-
whiskey helps.
Does it, the knife,
erode the stone?
does the stone
gnaw the life?
Sharpen the knife
or let it fall
rightly or wrongly
outcome is all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem