In my absence that makes time tender
The heart grows fonder.
In my presence that makes time solid
The heart is cut asunder.
Is this my fault?
Perhaps it is not.
Is this your fault?
Perhaps it is not.
Is this our fault?
Perhaps it is not.
Is this God’s fault?
Perhaps it is.
What mystery does this relationship holds?
Ages and till now it remains untold.
(06062011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem