Water parades its self no more
For the spring of sorrow from whence it sprung
Has dried up
Leaving jubilation in the brightly lit rooms
Of my tender heart
The rims of my eyes can no longer swell
For the fists that turned it a darker shade
Have 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
Death is just a threshold. It should be a happy one! the fists, violence? are you offended?