This must be it, the last time I'm seeing you,
The road has been bumpy, this long life too,
The shoulders were thorny, we could not rest,
Or stick to our given lane, but we did our best,
We had many thrills, and so many cold nights,
We celebrated so hard, and we'd colder fights,
But now you must stop, and breathe no more,
For the life inside you is kicking, fighting to go,
You may clinge your fists, and say not now,
You may sadden your heart, and wonder how,
But you can't change fate, or the road ahead,
And we can't make promises, it might be bad,
We can only hold your hand, calm your pulse,
Forcing it down and making easy your demise,
We can stroke your hair, with the brush of fate,
Telling you stories of love, betrayal and hate,
Or we can plan your funeral, and let it sink in-
You are going, and forever is standin' in between,
The accusers are waiting for you the other side,
And I have placed a note for them deep inside,
With little guilt, I made remarks about this life,
It says that there are two important days in life:
The day we realize that we're all going to die,
And the day we learn it matters not if we ask why.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a very good write.......