Category: Poetry
A parting with a friend is past all bearing
When there's no hope of meeting any more.
Especially if the riches you can boast of
Comprise of love and friendship, nothing more.
When heart with heart are merged in such a oneness
That they would die once they are torn apart,
And when the trials and labours of existence
Without one's friend would simply be too hard,
Your friend from you by destiny is severed
Forever, at a stroke right from the clear,
And lips are pressed to lips the last time ever,
Your face is seared by one last bitter tear...
There was a time I had so very many
Good comrades and true friends I held so dear.
Now I am all alone ... but now as always
Upon my cheek I sense their fervent tears.
I've no idea what storms and trials await me,
But even when my skin is parched with years,
No matter if the trace they leave is bitter,
I'll always quicken to a friend's last tear.
In life I've known much sorrow and affliction,
I have no tears left, my eyes are dry.
But I'd have found a tear for one I cherish.
The joy of seeing a friend would make me cry.
It is not days, but months and years of sorrow
That press down heavily upon my breast.
Oh, Fate, a meeting with a friend vouchsafe me!
It's really such a trifle I request...
October 1942