They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
- The title translated is "The brief sum of life forbids us the hope of enduring long". I'm into all different kinds of poetry for all different kinds of reasons. I will always feel compelled to add poetry which deals with the issues of life and death - especially those which highlight that life is just too short.
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