When heaven decrees that
our time’s run out
and our bones become ashes
returned to the ground
when the winds won’t blow
and the stars fall down
when our vision withers
beyond all doubt
when the sun don’t shine
and the moon don't rise
when the tall grass withers
before our eyes
when the fish don't swim
and the birds won't fly
i'll still be yours
passed the end of time
so
don't you cry, now
don't you cry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem