I've done too many things that I now regret.
These are the things I don't forget.
They happened without my thinking them through,
without my thinking'what should I do? '
the cart before the horse, that kind of act
and when they're over you can't get them back.
You can wish them undone
but they don't disappear.
They are part of your memory.
They last I fear.
We take life for granted
and don't see the hurt.
We look the other way
until the dirt appears like smudges
that must be cleansed away.
Ane so we atone and then we pray
for forgiveness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem