My feet failed me once or twice,
But my heart had never stopped hoping,
With every shatter,
A healing comes through the sorrowness,
I may grow weak,
But the waves take me high,
The pain I could not escape,
Endurance as the only means to wake up,
How could I tell you of myself,
When I have lost myself,
Yet in your arms I feel found,
The hope we create through this fire,
Will it consume us to a greater bond,
Or will it burn us down?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem