There will always be something there,
it may be as light as a leaf
floating freely without a care
towards the mountains or the reef.
It may be grounded as a rock-
unshaken, it braves the weather
and defies time to break the lock,
remaining in its Creator.
Whichever form it may appear,
that odd and familiar feeling
will be treasured and held so dear-
genuinely held ’th much loving.
Strike while the iron is hottest
And make pieces of precious displays
Marking in your heart all that’s best
Having no need to count the days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem