For all who wander far from home,
familiar things are memories,
the music and the rush of love,
the melodies and ecstasies.
...
Yes I recall the breathless pause,
the meeting eyes, the tender kiss,
and I still hear the song that played,
when I take time to reminisce.
...
Those memories I will not let go,
until at last I close my eyes
upon a final earthly dream
of harmonies and wistful sighs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem