Why Is all too soon goodbye,
And to sweet hello I mourn.
Simple wings of seraphic heaven,
Show no compassion, no remorse
For my adored.
Each wing of the butterfly,
Is a guillotine blade ready to erase,
Like a pencil to a book,
The head is to the blade.
Erasing all thy memories,
Thy thoughts thou thought thou hadst,
Well no longer will you have that,
As you have breathed your last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem