There are no songs in the midday sun.
They are shed at night in the closeness of one.
Beginning from the heart where sorrow hides,
brought forth to be felt in tears falling from eyes.
Salted, wet, pouring into the rawness of hurt,
burning your heart.
Fulfilling feelings of sorrow and doubt.
The end of it all culminating in a pool of tears
flowing out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem