These are different days
Where the individual soul
Is left alone to wither and decay.
Once there were golden friendships
That weathered every storm
And violent tempest,
There was a spiritual bond
Impossible to break.
And if a friend departed for God,
One would find his child and weep
Saying, “The son of my friend! ”
These are different days,
I light candles at dusk
And entertain lonely spirits.
Well you have certainly entertained this one Uriah! Such a wonderful port in my storm...smiling at you, Tai
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Never stop lighting those candles at dusk. They shine in all of your poems. Lovely... Always your friend, Sandra