Some things are better left unspoken.
Some things can't be fixed once broken.
Some things can't ever be seen.
Some things aren't what they first seem.
Some things are never touched nor heard.
Some things can't be writ in words.
Why are some things what they are?
A tree's a tree, a star's a star.
Wolves will howl, and cats will mew.
I will die and so will you.
Why?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem