Life is painful enough without death confiscating our loved
ones from this earth.
Everyone dies before everything is ever said or done.
We remember one another as long as we each live life as it
comes.
We try to do it with love, but sometimes we fail in this
endeavor.
Later, after death, our hearts break into tears of sorrow
and guilt for life.
When all is said and done, I will remember you with love,
but will anyone remember me at all when I am gone?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem