What I have been
What I have seen
What I have weaned.
These three I wished I bettered.
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What shall we be after we have become.
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What glory is there in a faded picture 'What was is naught.'
We remembered so much we forgot to care.
What saddens me most is to entertain
the thoughts of accomplishment in a den of emptiness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem