Looking in the past for things that brought joy to my heart
and soul throughout the many years of life.
Knowing only the beauty of family and friends is what really
matters here on earth.
Nothing can be taken with us when we die, even the clothes
they dress us in stay buried in the tomb of death.
So what is there left of us when we're gone? Our lives are
remembered in the minds of people who loved us and we them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem