My spirit
Poor thing
Has stumbled across a treasure chest
With a broken lock
Like a broken clock
With no chime
Or correct time
Poor thing
My spirit will still sing
With no hate
Or just dissipate
I will vanish
And return
With a key
And see
If I can banish
That broken lock
Or burn
That broken clock
Like an extinct flower
That no-one will remember
There is the power
Of unique beauty and majesty
Or from a dying fire
With that one burning ember
Where fading power
Is the travesty
I will find the strength
To turn
That lock
And once again
Again and again
I shall wait
Or just dissipate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem