Always simply there is the night
A dream may cling and a fact may hold
the rain is cold even in warm daylight
as long as the wind blows alright
and alright always, the wind blows
always simply there is the night
A blind man sorrows for the chance he may see
a tired eyes man looked across the great wide field
only to find it all transparent
for a blind is blind and to see is see nothing
always simply there is the night
and those priest in Armani may swallow a hot blade
and wishfully me, may it be malty and silk
for hardly and rarely is gravely underestimated
sadly but still
only is the night
...yet I hope not
Darn the priest in me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem