When will the sky take me up?
When will the dream bubbles pop?
When will rain fill my empty cup
To the brim, to the very top?
And when will I learn to fly?
When will I stand on my own?
When will I succeed on my first try
And overthrow before I’m overthrown?
When will I find permanent shade?
When will the darkness glow?
And when will the pictures fade?
It started just minutes ago.
When will all the broken things mend?
When will the blind mind see?
And what if I endure to the end,
Will true love ever find me?
When will all these trials cease?
When will I triumph through the blast?
When will I live a life of peace
And finally break free at last?
And when will all of this make sense?
When will I know what for?
When will I see in present tense
Things I’ve only wondered before?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem