do i have to tell you
what is hard for me all these days?
I have been suffering but
i never tell.
The days are hard, and the hours seem
to be desert on my journey
hammers in my head
and my ears have not heard the songs of
love and youth,
i will not tell you how hard is it for me to live
life this way.
I am on your side, silent.
Dignified by your death
years ago,
i will not tell you how
hard has this all become for me.
It is getting late.
And the hour may finally come
For me to be rested
like you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem