Why does the willow cry?
What could be so lamentable,
in a place where bluebirds no longer fly?
What could be so unbearable?

In a place where crickets chime a sorrowful song
and the wind lets out a mournful sigh.
Surely nothing could be wrong.
So then why does the willow cry?

Oh, where have your comrades gone?
Birch, aspen, cedar, and spruce.
Have they fallen one by one?
Disappeared and left only you.

In a place where the wolf no longer howls at the moon
and the stars have abandoned the sky.
In a place where wildflowers never bloom.
Why does the willow cry?

Oh, where is the clever fox
that made its home beneath your noble fronds?
And what became of the fish that swam in the pond?
Where have they gone?

In a place where deer don't frolic in the meadow,
and fireflies don't illuminate the night.
Left alone with only its shadow.
Why does the willow cry?

In a place where concrete consumes life,
and skyscrapers tower above.
I know why the willow cries.
It has lost everything it loved.