No matter
How much poetry,
You write,
Nor how deeply
You pretend,
That will never
Compensate
For a life
Where tears
Became a blend,
Of deep solitud
Frustration!
Life half lived
With no content
As time went by
To nullify,
Of love,
All sentiment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem