Way down
in Mississippi,
Way down
in Mississippi,
the sound
of my mother
weeping
echoes
through the
sky.
Way down
in Mississippi,
Way down
in Mississippi,
the memory
of my
spirit
lingers on
disregarding
the passage
of
time.
Way down
in Mississippi
Way down
in Mississippi,
I remain
unseen.
Watching the world
with both
sorrow
and envy
as it
passes
me by.
Singing a soft
song,
that speaks
of
melancholy
and
my own
unshed tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem