Please don't tell the garden that I won't be there next spring,
The children, on their playing fields? They've more important things.
And don't disturb the neighbor's cat to tell her I am gone,
She's much too busy stalking bugs and field mice in the lawn.
St. Mary's bells will mark the hours, each and ev'ry day
But they'll not ring for me, you see, for I'll have gone away.
The snowflakes fall, then April rains, and golden leaves and then
A year has passed, then two, then three. Then five, and eight, and ten...
...and somehow still the garden grows. The tabby makes her round.
The children grow to parenthood. Miracles abound.
We've only shared a few short years together, you and me,
But keep me in your heart and I'll be there eternally.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem