When the heart heaves
And air is let out
It is a sigh.
Emotion rising to the flurry,
We often know the cause;
Dispirited moaning,
Impassioned feeling -
All we desire leaves us
Dry; unaccomplished.
The sigh seems to condone,
Even if it does not
Do so well enough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem