Her life used to be
The sweetest story she'd ever heard
A sweetheart and a babe
A lover, to an illegal distiller
A ruffian, a roughneck,
Whose neck never was smooth
What does she know?
Drunk in love was she
From the chalice of ignorance,
Her man was a hooligan
A once-alive hooligan
With a son as a memento
A harvest of the sins of Eve
Has learned a lot in a short while
Tomorrows follow yesterdays
So do stages follow stages
There now is another birth,
For heaven's sake,
For heaven's sake,
Like eggs and imagoes
Before they become so Fly
A son to always bruise her scar
A reason she smiles
And a reason she cries
Like a sugar anvil tied to her neck
Her very own crucifix
As Jesus did carry his
So is she prepared to carry hers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem