Life begins on separate pages, mere paragraphs at first.
Progressing daily, adding sentences at a time.
In our final days, rereading what we've written through
memory; reliving - mentally - many experiences.
Final days, resting, weary from our long journey;
searching for a shady spot alongside an ocean's beauty.
Lying down serenely, putting our finished books aside,
we dream, disappearing from our earthly life forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem