There's a path through the woods,
Where the sun may weep,
But will never be replaced by the moon.
There's a path through the woods,
Where the winds are free,
But unaware of worldly desires.
There's a path through the woods,
Where you may starve for days,
But a rare imagination will fill you for years.
There's a path through the woods,
Where reality, is disallowed in dreams,
But what you dream will surely turn real.
There's a path through the woods,
Where love and hate may have fractional meaning,
But been felt, is out of options.
There's a path through the woods,
Where you may bleed and die,
But that's what you will be waiting for.
There's a path through the woods,
You might have seen it, might have wished it,
But never dare to choose.
There's a path through the woods,
Beyond the explanatory meaning of isolation,
And over the graves of bond, and hesitations.
There's a path through the woods,
If you will reach the other end,
You will share the laughter with seraphs and God.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem