On Swan Lake we twirl around, around
Till the sound of laughter breaks
We hesitate to surrender
To the beating of the drum
It has begun
Around the other way with no delay
Face forward, eyes straight
We march to lose dead weight
In the depths of our existence
Being met by old resistance
With its everlasting persistence
We march on
Whilst speaking in tongues
Gather near forsaken one
Your death has come
Hear the beating of the drum
A lament has been sung
We march on
Along the waste side of despair
We must accept it wasn't fair
To have been left without care
Hardest thing for us to do
To follow through
Leaving you
We march in circles around the root
Transforming lies into truth
To become one instead of two
We march on until we do
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem