For most
life is midway
the reaching out
to the next day
not quite in hope
past-driven by doubt
some sinking feeling
in the burnt-out
once there was
the glory and splendour
life was a smiling field
blooming in every sweet flower
what's left at all
but love's healing grace?
light it up in the darkest hour
your life will find its rightful place
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem