Have I not told you sweetheart,
Its an impossible art.
To live without love,
There is no joy below,
There is no joy above.
You think I will grow,
And will I smile.
Without you my love,
I will live for a while.
I think I will wander,
Looking at others.
Thinking what they do,
Their joy does not wither.
Or may be I will live
And then I will die.
For sure I will drink
For sure I will cry.
What will you do honey,
When I won’t be near.
Will you do the same.
Or will your story differ?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem