The pall of the winter night descends
As slow as the gray clouds that gather
A chill in the air condescends
As the Scottish winter night darkens the heather.
The leaving of a loved one leaves me cold
The small of my stomach feels a pain
As part of me leaves the clannish fold
As the loved one leaves to play in life's game.
But part of life is coping with the leaving
Of love that was banked up in time
And invested by the giving and receiving
Of oneself up to the warm exchange of goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem