I have in my hands two boxes,
Which God gave me to hold.
He said, 'Put all your sorrows in the black box,
And all your joys in the gold.'
I heeded His words, and in the two boxes,
Both my joys and sorrows I stored,
But though the gold became heavier each day,
The black was as light as before.
With curiosity, I opened the black,
I wanted to find out why,
And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole,
Which my sorrows had fallen out by.
I showed the hole to God, and mused,
'I wonder where my sorrows could be! '
He smiled a gentle smile and said,
'My child, they're all here with me..'
I asked God, why He gave me the boxes,
Why the gold and the black with the hole?
'My child, the gold is for you to count your blessings,
The black is for you to let go.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem