it has been with us
for so many years
despite its being there
we do not anymore mind
until remembering dies
we think it is lost
we do not desire finding
it back
we get homesick
we are dying
we miss it
but then it is no longer there
we pray it comes back
it won't
it has no more power
to become the rain again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem