do not worry
my friend
there will be changes
it will not always be
their time
our time will come
our own season of spring
summer time
we shall have it soon
of beaches and sun
and white sands and
foam
of boats and women
and whispers of joys
do not worry my friend
they get old too
they die
and we will be there
for the eulogy
there will be no
disappointment for our
flowers for the dead
and those whom we wished
they all were.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem