Suppose death comes at my threshold
and asks me to wake up at one gloomy night
And I grabbed Death's dark claw firmly
and never returned your country
To look at you
through rusty windows again:
won't you miss him some day in future
- the heart that loved you so much?
Won't you miss him who gave
beauty to your lips, charm to your eyes,
and who made your smile more colorful?
I know you will not, you will not!
You'll simply laugh at me
Or you will have already forgotten me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem