When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.
I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough;
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.
Silence can be more painful than harsh words, with words you at least know where the pain came from, and there is hope of a resolution. Silence taken to the grave, now that is pain without hope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem