The mystery, you said, was our history.
You said it was dead;
The love that we had felt,
It had fled and bled away.
The hand we had been dealt,
Had caused us nothing but pain;
It had driven us insane.
Yet here we are, still here,
Still near.
Our love stronger than ever,
Pushing on forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem