Fortunate are the ones who can share every thing:
The joys and sorrows, to them, which life brings.
And blessed is the person who makes his memories
For his descendants, their inspiring stories.
This fortune they achieve through the miraculous book,
In which they see themselves as they look,
Which for me is my dear diary,
Since bearing a real life is occasionally dreary
Still being the mirror held up to my life.
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