It's been so long since I last heard from you,
I was content with but one call per year:
Which makes your memory not disappear,
And helps cause color to my constant blue;
So now do tell me what am I to do:
Because a second year is drawing near,
And though our fading times are yet quite clear;
I'd like to think that I can start anew?
It kept me sane, the thought that you're okay,
Despite the darkness ‘tween the call and call;
And oh, the dreadful things that can befall!
Your scarce connections say all words unsaid;
Yet now with dreary hope I day by day:
Do pray your rosy feet no waste land tread!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's pretty and readable. I enjoyed all of it.