It is true I am old now
On the day of my demise; this I know not
All that I've built
And that I've been proud of
These I own not
Why am I troubled because of the affairs of this world?
The day I am shot of breath
How many luxuries will accompany me to the beyond
The people I try to overtake
And the ones victory made me to hate
Forgiveness I've come to beg
As many I've took their smile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem