Why can I see everything from here?
Why are the trees doused in fire
Like a funeral pyre,
My eyes are heavy, I think I’ll sleep.
Moonlight is bleeding,
I’m feeling so drained
While the dull grey sky reigned,
My eyes are heavy, I think I’ll sleep.
Hoes does a place like this exist?
It seems so strange
A colourless exchange,
My eyes are heavy, I think I’ll sleep.
There’s a weird flavour in the air,
It tastes like disloyalty
With thirty silver’s royalty,
My eyes are heavy, leave me be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Gethsemane is a place of pain and sorrow. Sleep is a pill that does not work, though. Nice poem.