one man heard a word
said hope was alive
and as it turned out
it was a beautiful lie
and his hand...shook
the man heard a song
that touched him deep inside
and the man who wrote it
was shot and died
and his hand...shook
the man went back
to sleep in his bed
but he felt it wasn't home
inside his own head
and his hand...shook
now this old man
he was trying all his hardest
to make a career
as a literary artist
so he could dig out
of his ol' comfy grave
and he thought of the world
if it could be saved
and this old man
tried to take the lead
but everything he wrote
no one could read
'cuz his hand... shook
and that old man
never loved, though he tried
he could never get past
the one look in her eye
and his hand... shook
so that old man
stood under the sky
looking upwards
and choked down a cry
while his fist... shook
and his fist... shook
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem