What is lost is never gone.
It is hidden well with care,
and as we search or carry on
within our reach, it is there.
If, though, we find not what we seek
as we check the drawers and shelves
the outcome, for us, does not speak.
We find that we remain ourselves.
What if deeper is our grief
over loss we have to bear?
What if death shows no relief
and sorrow leaves us in despair?
Remember, pain is limited
despite the merits of its toll.
For, with that loss comes great fulfillment
Together, at last, when both console!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem