I hardly watch that small monument-
it arouses silence of sadness in my heart,
my mind cries like a new born baby.
My maternal uncle died at the age of 45.
Though he is not present in flesh and blood,
his name is engraved on it-
the name represents an existence,
that hardly dies, that hardly perishes.
His existence still exists in my subconscious mind.
Though I close my eyes,
so that I can never see that monument,
my mind's eye shows me its image,
as the moon's image is captured by the river bed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem. Yes there are people we meet who we cannot forget even if we tried. Good going