Whether it has the power
To move majestic mountains
Or burn down entire cities
As told and retold in folklore,
It has something about it,
That drop of desperate tear,
Even if there are no words
To show that you are fraught,
A tear can somehow articulate
The state of deepest disquiet,
Whether someone will rescue
Or will pass on a solemn cue,
Letting the teardrops pour
Will render the teeniest cure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem