Do Not Cry, My Little. Poem by Helen Vorst

I've seen you crying all that long night,
Tears like huge bugs went out from your eyes -
I even do not now reason why. There is allways reasons for
And every day adds more and more.

But, my little, if ever you'll be affended by grieves,
Do remember this night and us, listening to rustle of leaves,
Hearing city softly breaths, mocking lights
Diffracting on your long lashes, die in deep dark sky.

Do not cry, my little, let dream-weighted cloud
Take away your childish sorrow,
Do not cry, my little, it's enough with wet,
Let's go to bed: so late in night is almost morrow.