You sit there weary, as if you've lost the fight,
Eyes misty, as if you've missed your final light.
But no, you haven't failed — it's just not your time,
Don't think you've lost it all; that would be a crime.
What was not meant to be, simply passed you by,
Yet not all is lost — don't let your spirit die.
Though you may have gained nothing clear to see,
There's still something in you no one else can ever be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem