Mattie Stepanek
Was before his time.
He only lived
To reach his prime.
Reminding us
To stop and ”play, ”
He loved life
In every way.
At thirteen
(His golden year) ,
A victorious end
Was drawing near.
Nonetheless,
His works—sublime—
Within our hearts
Will ever chime.
His achievements
Were nobly vast
With memories
To surely last.
A young poet
Too soon gone—
Reached his goal;
His task done.
©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A brilliant tribute poem.