We stood at the crossroads
Where the roads crossed our paths
Stared at each other
With hatred and wrath
We were both cross folks
With crosses on our shoulders
Marching down the long roads
Watching folks grow older
But we, we are immortal
My little brother and I
We've spent many hundred years
Walking under blue sky.
Preaching about god to preachers
Teaching them what we know
Telling them about ourselfs
And the way we slowly grow
But this morning at the crossroads
We parted on different paths
And since that day we were seperate
Me and my other half
Little brother died fourteen years ago
But I - I'm still going strong
I guess I chose the right path
And he, he chose wrong.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem