There was some sense of foreboding
Which was ridiculous, in a sense,
As there was no way that you would die;
But, I remember, a tremor that moved me
That evening, as I warmly braced you a reluctant goodbye.
I knew you would return from where you went:
That you would be safe and, possibly, even soft-enjoy.
But, later, you remembered, how I
Turned at the door to embraced you - almost quite unexpected -
Which you received without a sound.
A week later, you had come back - returned
With fever and a weak body that needed
A lover's close, concerned care.
You took four days to recover, to let the germs flush out,
And though I fretted at heart, I couldn't be there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem