Grief learns to walk on tiptoe through the day,
Wearing a face the world will not mistrust;
Words ache within, yet choose the safer way—
To sink unheard into the heart's closed dust.
Tears dry before they reach the light of sound,
Sighs fold themselves where no one asks them why;
In quiet pain, the deepest truths are found—
The loudest wounds are those that never cry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem