My feet doth left my burrow,
Forced upon myself,
And tears streamed down upon my face.
Of home I left,
And realised,
It was not at heart,
But at the heart of others,
Because what is home without others.
A man and walls?
And as I sit alone I reflect,
Alone and paling,
Loitering,
This is where you find me,
Miserable.
Time hath passed,
And upon my return,
I am not the same,
They are not the same.
The darkness is stronger,
Not in the walls,
But in them.
Their is no warm welcome,
Their is no return,
For I am destined to wonder,
Alone and paling,
Cruel hand of fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem