Tears grow
from the depth of my heart,
and they bloom...
Alas! They bloom to the sky
where there is no moon, but clouds.
I look down to see
the cubic lights of the city
of the lovers and the pity
that my heart carries
for time's generosity
that 'Nor letteth me live nor die at my device'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem