Sway so sweet,
my weeping willows.
Cry with ease
your leaves from sky.
The breeze will dry
away your sorrow.
Again, your hearts
will tease and try.
Count your sand,
be kind to sparrows—
they can’t help
those fears they fight.
Twigs and wings
can’t wrestle arrows.
Trust someday
she’ll sing inside.
When you tell
that black-eyed Cupid,
“I’m in love,
now pain like you.
I profess,
then I feel stupid.”
He’ll say, “What else
can we lovers do?”
Sway so sweet,
you weeping willows.
Cry with ease
your leaves from sky.
The breeze will dry
away your sorrow.
Again—yes, again—
your hearts will try.
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