I won't throw that cutlery away
That had slashed your finger
Mercilessly
Souvenir it stands
Of the time when we
Had learnt to give up pity
Indebted to sorrow
For giving you tears
I'd learnt to wipe them off
Hadn't it been you
Crying in pain
I won't have overcame fatigue
Owe you a life
For being so harsh
When I'd longed for love
What so special to owe
For the scars
That you had given yourself
learnt to make amends with anger
When you behaved stupidly
In everything unpleasant
I could sense the good
In me
Owe to god for Giving me the eyes
And you for giving me
The vision
Being an adult
I crave for the child
That cuddled in your arms
Endlessly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very touching nostalgic poem.