When the feel has got feathers
From redness on the cheek
To the blue ocean eyes
When the bosom sprout flowers
When in laid back repose
Puffs of dandelions in memory
The bygone love once that was
Like the old violinist when he plays
Tune of his time and suddenly
On the gloomy Sunday when in grace
For the love of his life the gentle man
Bows to ground with his stature this time
The pianist for that melody had given
His life when his love was no more
O earth I have this plea on my lips
Shall I hear and see when I am dead
Shall I have memories when I am gone
I shall find some lost icons of my love
Some broken stones pictures white black
Aroma of earth some rays of sun
Of the moon and stars some music loud
(“Gloomy Sunday” is a beautiful German movie. There is also a song with the same title by Sinead O Connor)
4/3/2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I find sunday gloomy for another reason...........On monday you have to face fools again........................... Though memories of past to can make one gloomy............. Good Write........