Memory brings back a land of long ago
Where silent phantoms walk I used to know.
They are free now of longings, hope, despair,
Those lovers gone that formed a joyful pair.
Blessed now those who were then so young, so fair,
Blessed for being forever unaware.
Though not I who remain to think and stare
At the rain trickling down my winter pane.
Slow drops, as we, return from whence they came,
Wear down the stone that bears our faded name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful....but sad