Pendulum of time,
Weighed by memories,
Still swings
From heaven to hell.
And I count....
The moments pass by,
The sandclock races,
To empty it all.
Sands of dream,
Will they hold back,
I count each fleeting second.
Cityclock stuck midnight,
A lunatic traveler
Waits for the last coffee.
And streets will go to bed,
He wont,
He has to count...
The cups of coffees gone cold.
As the rain pours down,
I hide in little hut,
By my window I count...
The paperboats lost in drains.
Each day, each moment
A thousand lies,
Broken dreams,
Prayers never heard
And undying hope...
I count them all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem