Why do I remember so much?
And long for what can never be again?
Why I do feel such pain at life gone by
That will never come again?
Why am I lost in longing for so many different pasts
Even those I never really lived myself?
Why is it that so much calls to me
That will never be for me?
Why do I so much long to live in so many ways
And why must I regret the lives I will never have?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
All good questions, Shalom. Perhaps if the present could be filled with purpose and the little daily joys that often go unrecognized, and therefore unappreciated, are felt to their fullest, some of the longing would dissipate. I feel this way often myself. Thanks for sharing. Peace