Why do you feel afar, distant
when we have shared so much?
Is it because situations have changed,
or is it just you and me
no longer feeling?
What we've had, was it really worth keeping,
just like you said?
Were the times together really enchanting
and beautiful and real?
If so, why do they seem infinetisimal
when an adage goes -
Love knows no season?
The magic of presents and letters
we had for each other,
were they true conveyance of love
or just clichéd expressions of mundane emotions?
When we believe we had genuine passionate love,
why can't we rekindle what was
gone for a moment
and embrace it wholly again?
When we can't, or you can't,
does it mean the end of the road?
Is it letting go and let it be?
When do we know,
when do we set free,
when what we had was blessed
and ordered by the stars?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very emotional - the stuff of good verse!