When laughter could not spell the feeling, don't.
When smiles are script you know so well, stop.
When pillows cease to be stones, stand;
for to escape mourning, one must mourn.
None can run away from pain,
for by a mother's pain, we are born-
by tears, we are made alive.
Cry. For tears are sweet.
Lament. For pain is beautiful.
Even on our first cry, our mothers smiled -
for our unsophisticated cry, signified life.
Hold on.. and let go again.
Mourn. For tears are sweet,
the pain, beautiful.
Exquisite. There is a combination of both strength and vulnerability that comes through in a most powerful way here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
awsome.....i have no words to explain.