I don't like it
anymore than you.
Time's gathering dust
no matter what we do.
I don't like it,
time's moving away.
Fleeting flurried wisps
on any given day.
I don't like it,
whither shall we go?
Time's trapping trick,
All that we will know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem