Years ago I penned you down
Unknown to me your value then
So purely you were conceived
So real the thought of you
But thoughtless I was not to care
And now I miss you so
Of death you spoke
At least your title was
It’s reality you bore in full
Of what a shadow life is
Of facts we so despise
You spelt in full and truth
The truth so clear you spelt
That death a passage is
But an end at first must be
Before the endless comes
In truth my poem is gone
And now I miss you so
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem