Lying on a meadow looking upon the stars
Counting the days left to live and loved
Living in this cold shell to know more
Times and days flew by, oh my forlorn soul
Run, would you run to find a place?
To pick those rose with no thorns?
Shall I take you back to the nineties?
And sit and talk about blues and blacks?
I used to tell you stories about an old man
Flickering stars upon the dark blue sky
Glittering tales in a heart shaped box
Lonely soul in a distant hill
Leaving no foot steps on a sea shore
Sharing all the ills and joy
Feeling the snow falls from a branch
Dying as a martyr leaving no one to know him
He took a heavenly glimpse on his day
Trying to recollect his past glory
Where he was a clown and ruled his majesty
For all the time spent in that dark room…
For all the time he spent in that dark room…
For all the time he spent in that dark room…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem