His presence keeps haunting me,
at times when I have already forgotten.
When not even the tiniest memory
can be remembered,
he always comes back to me.
To remind me of the past,
of the pain and joy
Upon waking up, things are back
to how it used to be
To where it used to be
My heart is bound to his,
and his to mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem