Every flower that's ever lived
has had its bloom, then died.
The beauty was while blooming.
It's how it's identified.
Every love that's come about
has bloomed and never dies.
The beauty in this is the knowing
that it lasts after the goodbyes.
For love is stronger than 'death do us part.'
It stays with the one left behind.
And for the one that leaves and goes their way
You still are in their mind.
Only the body withers away.
It lived and than it died.
But like the flower that had its bloom,
Love is how it's identified.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem