Water cannot parade its self anymore
For the spring of sorrow from whence it sprung
Has dried up
To leave
Jubilation in the brightly lit rooms
Of my tender heart
The rims of my eyes can no longer swell
For the fist that turned it a darker shade
Has gone with you
And death usually dances with sorrow
But tonight, its waltzing with joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem