I sometimes think I've known
more days of depression than of light
leaving me submerged in deep darkness.
There's no protection that's airtight
against the sorrow of death's permanent farewell,
but the music in my heart
will keep me moving until my own demise.
I have to believe, there can't be anything imperfect in life
when such gorgeous sunlight falls on first spring tulips
even though the same sunlight greets graveyard flowers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem