The small slices of an era is spread;
Second after second linked together
Like the drops of rain streaming from the sky;
Drops linked to drops, as seconds to seconds
Minutes to minutes and hours to hours.
It takes just a moment for a baby to arrive;
Like taking just a pebble from the sea shore.
Taking just a moment from the ocean of time.
A baby, with an innocent face
With a dear, sweet, tender smile.
Kisses showering on that
Little blossomed cheeks.
Then as a passenger from the first stop,
He travels on the bus of life.
Then that vehicle travels on the road
Somewhere smooth and somewhere having gutters.
Omlettes and breads make him hunger free
The champagne excites his brain.
He is happy, he enjoys his moments.
Power showers on him
He flies in the air
He travels in water
His world is free from dearth and sorrow.
Then comes the inevitable
An hour so inseperable from the stream of time.
An hour with a black face, with sleepy eyes,
Moreover with the strange look of the last episode of a novel.
Under the magnetic spell
He travels along with that black fact.
His blood is cold
His nerves are resting
He is no longer hungry.
Here it's the path
O' ! It leads to the grave !
Can the time, the only mediator
Narrate the reminiscence of this travel from cradle to the grave.