In maze-like passages of the underworld I felt blind as a bat.
When a flickering light shone on my path like a guiding star,
I heard, ''I know we can't all stay here forever, but
If we start dreaming, we'll become what we really are.''
I would never failed to recall the author of those words:
That was Shannon, and I wondered if it wasn't late to change.
''It is never too late, '' he replied, ''We miss the sun and birds.
Repentant souls can play parts of tomorrow, yet it's strange.
The demons cling to our music, and we play again and again.
If you teach us how to dream, from here we'll tear loose.
''Look into my eyes and you'll see you soaked from the rain, ''
I said, ''Cleansing your wounds, while demons blow their fuse.''
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, it is well combined, beautiful lines …