Passengers,
All we are,
Drifting on the wings of time
With flaming desires:
Peeping the blury mirror
Of a dim distance;
Picturing green and golden dawn to acquire:
Certain as uncertainty-
A place.
Upon the elastic chariot of hope:
The grease for feeble heels;
We trot and galop
The fluctuating current of earthy bliss-
Making the ride
Fleetingly worthwhile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We're all pessengers riding on the vehicle of time, moving to it's diverse tides-smooth to rough, happy to sad- with hope we ride through the diverse currents!