An old year is to quit,
The new year shall be expected,
With conclusive project being taken
And fresh plans to design.
Rush and hurry for fear of loss,
While fast bloom fails in its fragrance,
You intended that
In that year.
Figured out between the lines
All of a sudden,
I realize it seems too much like a fate,
Yes indeed, unavoidable and destined
With no emotions to perceive ever, dying.
Forever as the stars shine,
Goddess of the moon idles away her time spying.
While, to look through from your farthest margin of a bay,
Deep in the dust and dark, I am standing there,
Feeling sad and wan.
This old year, the moment old hope drops to ground,
We dedicate to stepping and crossing that never-ending line all around.
Tough and strong as you are,
Memories would possibly still be your weakness.
Be there what might have been on the surface,
Stakes are too high to afford, for all of us.
This new year, a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,
Differences, if some, are what have been shaped in our drifted part,
Accelerates the cutoff of the ever-existing bar.