You didn't write.
You didn't call.
You didn't come.
And mingling,
The silent rain,
And my tears,
Fall on the quiet grave
Where lie my buried hopes
And departed dreams.
Perhaps had I not reached
So high
My visions could have been attained.
All those who climb
Must learn to fall.
I had come so far,
And I failed
When the goal was in sight.
Within the reach of the summit
My powers faltered,
And I called on
That reserve of courage
To goad me on,
And found the strength was gone.
Perhaps I'll learn
To live with failure,
Or try to scale
A smaller crest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem