Fast and forever in light, January lets the year,
Each of us carry whims of something dear;
Let January take on the next month,
A saintly episode of high labyrinth.
We do much in the way of sadness,
Yet worry is the cause, in this I bless.
Anxiety will resume on the day of birth,
A working day of nights, forever on Earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem