We are but a traveller
Under the bluish sky.
No things on earth belong to us:
Those our hands had touched,
Those our eyes had seen,
Those our minds had desired,
And those houses we had built.
We own no things
That we can call it ours.
We are but a traveller,
A Guest on earth
And shortly we will boat
One after the other:
To a place we truly belong,
To a home where rest is assured.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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