My nights were long, where sleep would rarely stay,
Memories woke and quietly had their say.
Your name became the pillow of my head,
while silence wrapped the words we never said.
You looked at me with love, so calm and true,
The world called madness what I felt for you.
After your marriage, waiting became art,
And poverty stood guard́ between our heart.
Our love was pure, untouched by greed or gain,
Yet purity demanded too much pain.
I spoke to shadows, learned to walk alone,
Your thought remained, a seed in silent stone.
Then life unlocked a school, a humble door,
Children's laughter healed what hurt before.
Their smiles untied the knots my past had spun,
Teaching me to live before I'm done.
When love grew tired and bitterness drew near,
You returned again, unexpectedly here.
You walk beside me now, but truth remains—
I'm not the man who waited through the pains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem