Life's an exquisite diamond, a stone
that's daily turned toward the light and cut.
Sometimes inner calm—others a cyclone
an uprooted heartache, pain in the gut.
Yes, each slice is a painful reminder
How difficult it is to lose in love.
But if you can avoid being false and be kinder
always being grateful, thankful for,
of each new twist and turn, life can be precious
good or bad, without ill-mannered acceptance
we can stand steadfast like cypresses
and turn our amber souls into carats
many-faceted, on the whole faultless
Happy midst highest or lowest solstice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem