MY father's friend came once to tea.
He laughed and talked. He spoke to me.
But in another week they said
That friendly pink-faced man was dead.
' How sad . .' they said, 'the best of men . .'
So I said too, 'How sad '; but then
Deep in my heart I thought with pride,
'I know a person who has died.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem