Restless spirits hover
Forming mountains in the skies
They cannot tell the time
They're searching for a home.
Close that door!
Shut out those disembodies masses
Of long past years.
Speak not to those restless spirits
That linger in the earth's stratosphere.
Weep not for the dead
For they're not really dead.
They toss upon the wind
Trapped in their voiceless suffering.
Though our love songs we sing daily
We'll soon grow frail and weary
Thus we too must prepare
Someday to join them there.
Then deep in slumber sinking
Eernal rest our souls a-seeking
We too will slip away
To taste of hell or heaven's offering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem