I do not want a life that doesn't sing,
nor sting and pull on my heart strings.
Like a child, I find joy in little things.
I toil in the nostalgia of bitter endings
and revel at the joy of new beginnings.
Who would want a life that lacked door-closings,
which would also lack doors opening,
if the saying did proove true?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Still thinking about this one...