Theses are the days of dreaded hopes
The nights of aimless dreams
The wanderings of a glorified beggar
Not for gold nor silver but for hope
Do you know of this feeling I speak
Or will you listen to it as ramblings of a pitiful outcast
I have been tried
I have been judged
I have been hanged
What more can you do o’ cowardly world
To a dead man who sleeps in peace
To a soul who sees all unperturbed
Maybe The dew on roses in the morning
Are tears of the night
Who lost his battle to the morning sun
Maybe The women I saw in white
Is the ghost of all my love dreams
Neon lights of nights
And white glare of day
Time is of no essence
To a man who seeks nothing to do
Roses and violin are just plant and wood
To a man who knows no love
Save me oh god before I feel the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem