When the bark is torn she suffers,
She’s breaking down to cry.
To watch her mourn is to question why,
Why it is you have no tear in your eyes.
To lament for her soul for it never will die
Would be an exercise in futility.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To weep for a soul that will never die Would be an exercise in futility. Just a little tighter!