He wished and prayed with all his might,
To understand the meaning of life.
Is it as simple as the morning light?
Or as complex as an eagle's flight.
Is it that which fills you with pride?
Or that which leaves you in fright.
On that same night
There was not, but a single light.
And lost in the fabric of time,
Echoed only but his lone soul cries.
Remembering that one last line,
"Doesn't matter whether wrong or right,
As long as you fought the good old fight."
On that very same night
Holding her in his arms all so very tight,
He promised and swore on his own very life,
That everything would be alright.
"I'll always love you to the last syllable of time"
Was all she could say, as she took her last breath of life.
If it were on another night;
Maybe then he would have saved her life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem