Sometimes There is a Light
Sometimes there is a light,
That shines on after pain.
In the eyes it is bright,
Like it has no recollection of rain.
Most I have seen are extinguished
By the agony of loss,
Suns that have been diminished,
The joy taken by sheer force.
They exhibit a wooden melancholy,
A giving up of sorts,
A longing for joyous memory,
As though they were reticent Ghosts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
joyous memory, good one, thanks