What she thought of all he'd just said
Would remain a mystery, as so much
About her remained a mystery to him,
Since that most wretched day when she
Told him she didn't want to see him
Anymore. She might not even open
His message and read it. He certainly
Didn't expect a reply. It was like groping
In the dark every time he tried to talk
With her. If she was there, listening,
She was deathly quiet, ready to walk
The moment he came too near.
Time heals all wounds, they say,
But perhaps this was more serious
Than a wound. Perhaps it was
A permanent rift. How sad
That would be, for him. Because,
If true, he had lost what was dear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, sometimes all we can do is hope that the rift between loved ones will one day heal.