She weeps a melody of wistful melancholy.
I yearn to help her mend, but join in harmony.
In minor keys our strains will lilt on magically.
Indifferent life to misery, perchance it sees a beauty.
One composed of poignant notes; all cries a tone of stories.
Those told in words but analogs to those we tell in tears.
Glee is dispelled, it renders the misery,
Admittedly, tenacity wears off,
And the merriment terminates, we slumbered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem