when the tempest was over , both the grain and the flowers , greatly refreshed by the rain , again stood erect in the pure , quiet air . but the buckwheat had been burned as black as a cinder by the lightning and stood in the field like a dead , useless weed . the old willow waved his branches to and fro in the wind , and large drops of water fell from his green leaves , as if he were shedding tears . the sparrows asked : " why are you weeping when all around seems blest ? do you not smell the sweet perfume of flowers and bushes ? the sun shines , and the clouds have passed from the sky . why do you weep , old tree ? " then the willow told them of the buckwheat 's stubborn pride and of the punishment which followed . i , who tell this tale , heard it from the sparrows . they told it to me one evening when i had asked them for a story .
it was sad that the buckwheat died .
why did the willow cry ?
why did the willow cry ?