Julia asked me to write a poem.
Why not to write it if one feels lonely.
I don't know her reasons, is it a business?
But poetry is kind of souls' fitness.
You'll read and reread and of course remember,
The Finance day in the cold November,
The party we had in not less cold summer,
Where you were coughing, but still felt happy.
We didn't achieve the high dream of finance,
The world politics has spoiled the card games.
But anyway - if you hear the beating
Of these kind words - you will change opinion.
I may write more, but it doesn't matter
If it was cold in the land of Russia,
You've come from Korea, from the South
And near you we all felt the summer.
You gave us kindness, and altruism
is the high purpose of life, its bliss.
See God in brother - as this command.
you saw in us, like in native land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem