Translated by Yiyan HAN (c)
2017-11-01
Everyone tries to take hold of every day
Every month
Every year
Or every moment.
But what should be missed will be missed.
Not a single second
Would stay and wait for us,
As time walks, too hurriedly
On the road towards death.
No one can ever hold anyone,
Or bribe the Angel of Death.
Also there's no need for resentment.
On each day
Even in each minute
There'll be one who, on a cold stone,
Has one's own name engraved,
And publishes one's last book.
Its front cover is the gravestone,
And the profile is printed on the back.
If opening the book,
On the first page,
The first poem written is
One's cinerary casket.
I really like this. It's so true too. A beautiful description of life.10+++
Thanks for kindly sharing your own stories and thoughts here and in your poems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bitter truths of life and death in a sweet poem, it's really wonderful.
Thank you, and yes truth is truth...