The Weeping Willow
Which are the wizards or witches
Who have wisked away joy?
You, once so glad and so wishful,
You wither away in your woe
In the land of the willow,
Of our weeping willow
Which we grew long ago.
We can´t find a reason
Why you wimper in tears at the window?
Which wizards or witches
Took the joy you enjoyed
When you planted the seeds
And you watched the tree grow,
And the arms of the willow,
They waved in the wind
And they beckoned the children:
" Here are we, tender and growing,
light green and glowing,
in showers, a bower to hide in,
to hang from and whirl round and round on
till dizzy and with happiness drunk"?
Is it witchcraft?
Why do you wince if we try to approach you?
Is it we who have wrongfully wronged you?
We cry while you writhe in your pain,
We are weak, we are weary and wait.
The willow, it weeps with us today.
It spreads its spider-leg branches
In the bleak, black weather.
There is wilderness without too,
For us without you.
And our son, the little one, whispers:
" Daddy, can you pull the wish-bone with me? "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem