That they may fall
and rise, or not
is none of your concern.
Sea tides struggle
isn't azure above skies
What though a child cries
where is the pain
mustn't mother be called to attension?
Then what
these flower's wither at dawn
Din't the dusk celebrate?
Sir G,
show me your shirts' smoothness
and the tie in your tie
or the sights of an eagle,
must i fly high?
What then though they may cry
Don't duty call your attension?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem