I don't think
Of the diseased corpse,
Laid in wet clay -
The physical life
Now ceased to be.
I think of the beauty,
The smile and the laughter.
The fleeting glimpses
Of precious shared moments.
The body dies,
The soul survives.
You live in my memory -
Eternally.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem