Fleeting lives

Fetch me odors

Perhaps with your pitcher.

Count with you times,

You'll submerge in failure.

Days are like odors

and you can't keep account,

Steadily they diffuse,

and never condense back.

In gloomy in blooms,

In sickness in health,

times strolls uncompromising,

Demise of pity nor euphoria.

If you know the fleeting days,

Say a clear tale of them!

If they shall fully become years,

Or maybe the end is here!

Fleeting lives,

Fleets somewhere permanent.

Where time stops,

And all exit shuts!

If therefore life

Is fleeting,

I shall prepare

for the none fleeting days.

And perhaps it fleets me away,

I shall smile all the way.