He didn't have fame or fortune.
He wasn't interested in the climb.
He was always going on and on about love
and he was happy...all the time.
When it came my turn to say goodbye
I was angry.
I was sad.
I rested my head upon his chest...
for love was all I had.
"I wish I had more to offer you, " I said,
"before you go away,
something more that I can give you
something more that I can say."
With what little strength he had left
he took my hand in his.
"You've given me love and not only is that important, " he said,
"It's the only thing that is."
I used to wish for fame and fortune
but that was just a whim.
Now I wish for a life filled with love...
and to be happy...
just like him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem