Lying there, was his own lady fair,
across the city ~ miles from home;
seriously ill in a hospital bed
and he was feeling sad and alone.
She seemed content as he held her hand
and stayed at her side to pray,
whispering sweet words to his dearest one
before final heartbeats took her away.
Often there's no time for last farewells,
or time to arrange where we die...
but her ashes would be in a place of love
where archangels fly over the sky.
'The end will be pain-free' doctors said
'peaceful, calm and serene'... THEN
the morrow came, with its last farewell;
nothing seemed real, all was a dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem