Few can share of sharing pain.
Those few just wish to die;
Stop the thoughts of feelings felt-
And mop their drooling eye.
All is here to be left here
And that includes our hearts.
They've been good, but better still.
Some loved themselves apart.
At fault are those they tried to drown
In fickle, short obsessions.
They wanted all just for themselves,
But we'll not be possessions!
None can know the things to come;
The bad- the good...if any;
But some will stay to share-
Though hurt, good souls, but not the many.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem