A sad poem for me could be such as this one;
Looking around, to where I am and how are you.
How did I come to be as I am so cold and alone.
Yes, tonight it is cold, colder now as my heart looks up.
Mars is bright red and Venus flickers under her lashes.
But love of love where does it go, when it is unfinished.
A book still open as it must appear to some, it may be lost.
Where else like the cold wind can it blow so warmly.
Does the bristle pine like Methuselah love it's rocky bed.
Kisses by the many thousands, I can not remember one.
Such sadness my thoughts, so I write them down for you.
No,
Pablo I am to simple, perhaps to simple to forget her.
Your bed smelled of you, while my bed I can't remember.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem