No phrase that can explain the way it felt when
I woke from my bed in the middle of the night,
and slipped out quietly into the living room, so that
you would not hear my sobbing.
And when you found me there
and asked me what was wrong
I looked at you, and knew.
'We're not going to make it, are we? '
I said it like a question
but it wasn't.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem