Roses, lilies, candlelight,
The ink in this pen—everything!
They seem to have a life of their own,
Along with mine—the only one here
Questioning existence;
Wasting my living in thoughts:
With no answers.
The wanderer and the lost in his own life!
I shall surrender to this moment, observing,
The transience of all that it is meant to perish
Beneath the sky—mute to any argumentation.
What is—just is—that is all!
Everything is nothingness,
And Nothingness cannot affect me:
I am just part of the scenery,
Amongst these roses, lilies, candlelight:
All—consumed by time.
In time everything is done. Observing is done in time basis. In observation roses, lilies, candlelight, the ink in this pen—everything seem to have a life of their own. Beautifully painted and amazingly shared. Thanks for sharing.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great perception too.In poetical terms the philosophy of our existence.