For every little rain drop, that has ever fallen from the sky,
can not begin to account for all the tears I've cried,
The tears I cry are silent, I cry them every day, I cry
for all the promises, that have all now faded away.
A life that was worth living, was taken all to soon,
a love that has ended, before the story was all through,
makes for a tragedy that really must be told, of all the
greatest stories, often told to me, the greatest tale will be,
for a love that can not be.
To have a taste of true love, taken away from me,
is the cruelest, torment that there can ever be,
to live within that moment, when a love has to pass,
of all the pains I've suffered, more that I care to know,
the pain of losing a lover, is by far the greatest
I have known.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Steve. You commented on my work a while back and I wanted to visit yours. This was a very sad piece written about love, I enjoyed, Loyd