not often I know how to laugh

I don't like jokes, frivolity

not because I find it evil

but because for me they are luxury

riches difficult to achieve

there is a sea of sadness in me

sorrowful tears

unfinished wrongs

incurable wounds

hushed up moans

when I work quietly

when I speak to people normally

when lively and freely

I go about my housework

it cries when I lean over my child's bed

when I worry about his well-being

when I am glad seeing his grace and progress

when I think about his future

and compare it with my own

it cries in me when I am held in loving arms

when I am the object of caressing glances

mouth melting hot kisses