In all the world mothers and fathers

Stand over cradles

And pain comes from their hearts

A thick and strong string envelopes them

Each eyelash, every vague muttering

The one-way pain

Trickle into the dreams of my child

Pooling in dark corners, painting my hair white

The day will come, when my child will leave here

And again there will be

In my blood at night over the bed of his child

Then the hidden pain will break out and the strings of his heart will tremble