The day that robbed us off love.
The day that cheated us out of guidance.
The day that taught us how to spell loss.
If it was up to me then I'll remove it from the calendar for good.
If it was up to me then I'll turn back the hands of time.
Too bad I don't have that authority.
Too bad it's not my place.
Too bad I can't change anything.
I'll, instead, write it in the books of history.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem