Tears, such beautiful waterdrops

The name sorrow lives in sorrow.
Like a tree waiting for spring, I live by waiting.
I walk to the world’s remote house
embracing beautiful longing like a book.
Tough the silver thread of sunlight breaks,
the string of waiting does not break.
When I call your name, you flocks of butterflies
with tens of thousands of wings come to me,
and the wind blows to the end of the world made by sorrow.
Family, my eternally dependent family,
you body of time that share my heart
like leaves sharing dew in the air,
you to whom I want to give the most precious thing,
the only precious thing I have is tears,
and tears only moisten, they do not break.
tears, such beautiful waterdrops