What keeps us alive, what allows
us to endure?
I think it is the hope of loving,
or being loved.
I heard a fable once about the
sun going on a journey
to find its source, and how the
moon wept
without her lover’s
warm gaze.
We weep when light does not
reach our hearts. We wither
like fields if someone close
does not rain their
kindness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem