The 'alive' song with a singer
longing for Saturday night.
Years those - when a brother;
the kid, cute n short,
sang out loud, who's shy?
An improvised Karaoke,
the disc a priced form,
saved from college change.
Yeah, he was alive,
with me on chair.
I, smiling with angels
- two three, and four;
so light to lift,
then kiss, love, watch
and hear 'em grow and
promise - the sister's word,
for life and forever more,
they were, they are.
Proof? The Venice damsel's,
shy act for bucks,
to follow her friends to school,
and a shopping spree for charity
- back with junk or funk,
her smile worth fortunes.
Her tender cheek pecks
from my lap - precious!
I love them all,
I love them all,
the blood bond free of money;
my life since the first cry for warmth.
Sister's promise!
Reminder from my elder here,
loving, caring,
boy am I wanted?
Even on her Sunday.
Yes, even on that family day.
I am cherished here?
Like in the free west.
Ah, what should I give?
It's free, free west,
expanding borders
to an island in wilderness,
giving me little bit
more than just free love.
Learn ye stubborn;
yes, she, the she
who branded pure amour.
A joke of the devil,
her amnesia during
good mornings, the sleep;
lullaby in simple lyrics,
banned kisses from an outsider...
... Those words lost
in a sudden transit between
teen and adulthood.
Nay, teen and adulteration
through music from another artist,
a real twisted genre.
A cyclone builds off shore,
the Easterlies there.
Here, the blown chocolate villa,
the 'Sisterlies' stormed across town.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem