Endless saturation.
Clear, opaque, transparant, dense, thin.
See through, or blinding.
Smiling, devastated, angry, thankful, loving.
It flows, pools, dries.
It stings, moisturizes, soothes, stains.
It is sometimes hidden.
It is sometimes all there is.
It lives through birth and death.
It speaks thousands of languages.
It is it's own language.
Embraceable or fought,
wasted or cherished,
believed or part of lies,
it has always been
and will always be
quite amazing.
The human tear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem