Walkin' down the endless rails
with water in my shoes
i find a way
to spend the day
it's time to sing the blues.
the old rail blues tell rusty tales
regardless who will lend an ear
of travellers' movin'
town to town
on rusty engines run on tears.
the old gray men that time's forgot
don't matter when or who
have spent the best years
chasing rails
that seem to never end, (and like as not) ,
will never be remembered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem