Sitting on this blue park bench,
I hear the nightingales sing
high in the trees. I feel the soft wind
blow a cold solemn
Breeze, as I plead with the fleeing sun,
For I know come the moon,
my loneliness will be released.
Sitting on this blue park bench,
my heart beats as thunder,
A mind in paranoia,
I fall into a black yonder.
Scouring the gloom of night,
For the voice that makes my heart wonder.
Sitting on this blue park bench,
I know my love for you will not
take fright, when shadows of roses
and trees become demons in the night.
I will wait here till I see the sight
of my lost lover's light.
As I sit on this blue park bench.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem