If I must die,
I will carry the burden of goodbye,
not in words spoken,
but in the weight of all that remains.
The laughter left in empty rooms,
the touch that lingers in fading light,
the echo of my name in voices
that still call, though I cannot answer.
I will leave footprints in memories,
soft and steady, never erased.
I will not take love with me-
it will stay, woven into the lives I've known.
If I must die,
let it be with open hands,
knowing I was here,
and that was enough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem