Traces of love

Can you find the traces of love that existed before?
As the tears are wiped away, so one day the pain
of your loss disappears. No longer the scars are sore.
An invisible chain no longer makes you insane.

Then you wonder how years can so well conceal
former madness, fixing your mind on the only one,
how the white of snow loses its whiteness, its appeal,
when anguish crushes your heart like a megaton.

Like a muddied snow, so the prayers’ freshness was lost,
prayers begging God or whoever could help me there
to return the tenderness of beloved hands at all cost,
overruling my fate with its loneliness and despair.

We were scattered across the ends of the globe, yes,
and the tired hearts navigated through storms like boats,
sending our love in the deepest mind’s recess,
finding space in the attic for our letters and notes.

No longer depending on memories of our days,
I have learned to get on with my future, to be content,
for the Lord knows why He had granted that phase
when we, being madly in love, those letters have sent.

I have learned to worship not you but the very God,
who, allowing us to meet, then arranged the split,
however strange it might appear to you or odd,
God can heal the heart, which He did with a blade slit.

Like a beautiful shell on the beach brought by squally waves,
in the attic the bundle of your photographs and letters remains,
where the Time, preserving the past, inadvertently saves
precious moments of love like a shell keeps some sand grains.

22-23.09.2019

Это стихотворение вольно переведено с моего стихотворения на русском:
Следы любви http://www.stihi.ru/2019/09/15/352