Towards the Final Struggles

I am not afraid of tears, at least mines.

They washed my body and eased my soul,

having evanished from so long.

Perhaps they do not realize all strength

had given to me by soothing past times.

At age, my mind is modeled to think that

it is not worth to weep, for life is trouble.

I want to turn into my early days, until

to my youth, yet infancy, and learn anew

to cry whenever I fall down; then weep

pretty enough to please the longing for.

No one ever need or must see such tears,

that will pour from my innermost being,

then work warming and pushing ahead

to final struggles compulsive a fighter.

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