I saw an old friend,
And things were just fine.
We were still friends after all…
Or so I thought at the time.
I saw an old friend again,
She had a new friend.
And that was fine.
But only by me…
When I was there she wined.
I saw an old friend once more,
Though it wasn't as nice as before.
I could tell something had changed.
This time all she did was wave.
I saw an old friend down the hall,
She had lost weight and gotten so small,
Still with the more popular friend,
She only waved again.
I saw my old friend again,
But she pretended to not see me.
So I did the same.
I saw her again recently,
Our parents were there so we smiled politely.
She didn't come near me.
I saw my best-old friend turn her back on me.
I watched her leave.
-SOH
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I believe this is a universal experience, I may be wrong but I think all of us have witnessed the slow dying and then the final death of what we thought would be a lasting friendship.Your detailed and progressive account makes the inevitability believable. The tension created by the slow pace of this poem is almost unbearable, I wanted to skip ahead to verify the sad conclusion but I did not because I also realized this is a song of the hurt heart. The role of the reader/listener is to be the patient witness and that means the whole of it, not just bits and pieces.