I thought I was born a perfect all,
With many things at my beck and call.
Days went by and I became me
I thought it was all I wanted to be.
I turned forty and looked back
To see the other half I still lack.
My whole life has been a half,
Of an all I feel not enough.
As I age and approach my timely end,
The other half, my Lord, prepares to send,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem