let the door close quietly, friend.
the candle burns all the way down.
the books all closed, the letters packed,
the footprints of loving lost in sand.
the storm is over, the world begins anew,
the song of the grasses fills the stillness.
the trees still bowed in deep respect,
for one who came, raged, and breathed...
we are no more than small things done,
but certainly no less!
the laughter, the tears, the napkin folded,
the cup of companions, the table shared!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem