'Ian, this is my last cast to you.
If a man is known by his friends, then I am a better man today.'
This is for all the rivers never fished
and for all the memories never made.
It's for the evening rise we will miss,
and for stories we will not get to tell.
The phone rang at 8: 33 in the morning.
I can not remember who called, but I still hear the words.
'Ian is dead...'
The day stopped there...
We took your memory on a fishing trip a month later,
Rudi and I,
We kept you a space on the water,
we drank a beer with you every evening.
We celebrated your life
and we thanked God for knowing you.
We enjoyed having you there.
I am so sorry that you had to miss it...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a touching poem and a wonderful tribute both to Ian and friendship in general.