To me you are the breath
that I take almost endlessly
before the time of approaching death
is near to me
and every moment I treasure
your presence that is more than wealth
to me, in its sheer pleasure
and even your health
brings good fortune to anybody
that shares your life
and thus you are a prize, but everybody
in this foul age is full of strive:
I decay each and every day,
since you have gone away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem