What flag falsely flown could tell
What colours could show
What talk could unfurl
Whose to spell out our name
This is the accentuations
Of a slant and an angle
Of the groundwork keepsake
My brother and I remember our CDs
Jumbled together, we listened to all sorts
Now that we're musicians
I feel all that you've
Gained in your art wrought
Folk spun makes something
From all our loss now gone
Artists need space to create
Your art unsubdued creates the path ahead!
What we went though only you could say
The life we led, the life we led.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem