I have this Longing, he said,
Since I was a child.
She said, For me
the Longing
Is for myself.
He asked, Why
are we most afraid
of Loving those
we Love the most?
Their lips, soft, warm,
Kissed three times slowly.
They parted at the station.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The imagery of good-bye...one of the saddest words in the English language. Very poignant. Take care. Kind wishes, Sandra