Nine lives on a dead man’s chest
Nine lives is what I had at first
Young, Innocent and pure
The best laid plans I had for sure
Then came love, then trust, then love again so hard
Round and round that’s all I had
Then came holy balloons
Disgrace they say, these kinds of taboos
In the sweet morning descended upon the land
Engulfing those who dared stand
A journey through nine lives thus starts
When fair love leaves us
And peace in its high place flees past
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem