There is a woman crying on the top of a mountain washed by the North Sea. Her tears join a stream she can hear night and day. The stream joins the vast sea she can see when the clouds are driven away by the wind. The sea joins the ocean she hears about from the birds that rest on top of her mountain from time to time. The woman’s sorrow is matched only by the dread of the suffering she would cause if the ocean were to swell with her tears all the way to her feet. How horrible such a flood would be! And the tears roll down her cheeks ever more profusely.