I hear the relentless ticking of the clock
And it troubles me. Time is indifferent
To us it seems. Worries and woes never stop.
Against this state, can we ever truly dissent?
Although the wise ones among us meditate
And live in the blessed moment, most of us spend
Our precious lives merely chasing our own tails.
Then to dust we will return, and that's the end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem