When one has lived without,
What one has never had to live with...
From the beginning!
It becomes difficult to use that as a weapon,
To threaten to keep it denied.
Especially if one never knew,
What it was that was being kept away.
If one has never had what it was to miss...
What good are those threats?
And what is one expecting in return,
For making them?
And which one is left to experience regret?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem