I saw your face within cracks of the dusty road,
From that moment I knew, we were meant to collide
Your appeal had my dumb tongue let loose an eloquent poem
I now write with a purpose to exalt the both of us
From the aftermath we are not supposed to be ashamed of
To burn the pain amidst our raging passions,
And the ashes manure blueprints of our beautiful quests
I heard you sing out fire off the burning sleeping visions
Many like us went but never returned from the lost
Our hearts are now tombs where their names are written
We dig for the beauty of our desires
To write a beautiful story to be read some day;
A history of victors to inspire. And streets we roam,
Wearing smiles and have them taken off behind close doors
Promising our pillows that tomorrow will be a better day
Within the verses of your songs,
A freedom child roars
The echoes build stairs where it dreams to ascend
From bricks it picked when it stumbled
On colonial pavements, like those who came before
And fallen into traps of the server drivers
Form a life in a reflection from a window pane
Dying endlessly in search of a world so sane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem