She sat across the booth from me
Telling of kith and kin
Unending were her siblings' woes
Valleys of untold grief
Please note, my friend is eighty-two
Her sister who was older still
Is doomed in Mexico
Jorge her no good husband is
Kaput, finis, checked out at last
‘Twere best she should go too
I wondered why my lunchtime friend
Just now seemed like a kid
Kayaking on the sea of life
Lamenting much distress
Is this not now a time of rest?
Tides of long lives have washed us down
Until our bodies creak
Ventricles shot, our tired hearts should seek
Where wisdom might be found
But some may never reach that ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Tides of long lives have washed us down', sad to think this lunchtime friend had no end of woes, but I'm sure she was happy to chat with you dear Liilia!