In Easter Valley
The roaming skeletons
staggered over bones
bones
bones
so thick
and dense
the air.
Sadness had made his frown
The Artist in his gown
Held high his palette
And painted sadness.
In that dark valley still
Flowers and plants and
Trees
Grew crooked and bent
And withered.
That was a sad site, my Monsignor!
That was for sad souls, sad
Inner Souls, as you my Monsignor
And me!
For that
Was Easter Valley
And
In Easter Valley
The roaming skeletons
staggered over bones
bones
bones
so thick
and dense
the air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem