time flowers
another time wilts
some time fruits
one time is all leaves
season of aridity
and season of
rotting
ah, all these times
and seaons
they all pass by
passing by at us
who wanted to be
with it
but time is not us
we are rotten
we are fruitless
we stay and be
come gone.
time flows
what do we know?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem