With my head held high,
I trudge through the crimson muck,
My dark eyes set on the amber sky,
With little hope and small luck.
Sent by the guardians of fate,
I send my letter full of helpless hope,
My starry eyes blind,
The brown twine bound to the envelope.
Closing my eyes,
I embrace the darkness.
Unwilling to see what's wise,
I load my gun will bullets of sadness.
Catching my breath, I gaze.
My faith full of wavering concern,
The ground laden with runaways,
'I will always return.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem