Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain
There is no comfort, nothing can be said
The silent forest shivers in the rain
Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain
Everyone asks if he was sick or sane
My dearest darling brother he is dead
Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain
There is no comfort, nothing can be said.
First published in The Mozzie Volume16, Issue 7, September 2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem