When the leaves bud again, I will return,
Though I'll be far away.
And watching the leaves you soon will learn,
That I just took a holiday.
Though I'll be gone, you'll see my face,
In most everything you see.
But you'll know I'm in a better place,
And that my soul is free.
And keep an eye on the budding leaves,
And the rain that brings them forth.
And feel the joy and not the grief,
And know what life is worth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem