It's late again and no surprise I can't sleep
I lay in bed and listen out the open window
the old willow tree is singing softly tonight
the branches sway, reciting of love and you
as much as I try to ignore, I can't help but hear them
they set off familiar electric tingles down my spine
currenting all the way up to my hungry lonesome mind
only to be devoured by the harshness of reality
and the cruel logic echoing in my brain
through the empty pain the music still flows sweetly
melting down the remains of my wounded soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem