Outside a sky of blue is fading in and out of grey.
Inside a crimson sky is dawning all throughout the day.
My senses are numbed as defences succumb towards a
Dread fear of revolution. The young are running faithless,
Beneath the sun a-shining still – Upon the hill we’ll have our fun.
Turning cycles in evolution – Forever at our own pace –
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem