Grief’s the longing of the soul,
For what might have been
Pain the lasting mark,
Of lost joy’s sweetest beam,
Only after joy that’s pure,
Can one experience wound
Only Christ’s sweet commune with God,
Gave the cross it’s hue
Nothing salves the greatest ache
Except we wait its end
When you both before him hand in hand
At his throne will bend
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem