My old friend, where are you now?
The X in the road,
North, west, east or south.
Unto you have I given that which makes
Me vulnerable to you.
A cut might heal, wounds apart,
Is the sun not hot today?
Together we walk alone,
As have many
Who were alive and lived long before,
We were born.
Thing's left unsaid assumptions made,
Wisdom undeserved from your God.
Listening alone as you talked was simply,
The way you were made.
As with those you meet in your dreams,
And they in yours.
So you will know when you see me, alive
Not yet dead all our friends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem