The bittersweet tear, drops down her face.
I see her sweet lips fade, what have I done.
What did I do, my mind does race.
How did this happen, we were just having fun.
Was I drunk, did we fight, those facts are not remembered.
The knife in my hand is coated with blood.
I am going mad, my soul is being dismembered.
Straight through my mind, the guilt does flood.
Live or die, it is my choice.
I must face the truth, that much I can reckon.
In my ears, still rings her voice.
I will not die, But I'll pay the price.
In solitude, I'll live in fear.
So what brought me here, to this cell, like ice.
Memory of her tear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Here you go, I changed a few bits 'n' pieces for you: The Tear Bittersweet tear slides down her face, I see her sweet lips fade. What did I do, my mind does race. The darkness, it pervades. Was I drunk and did we fight, I cannot recall. I look, my hand is wet with blood, Did I cause her fall? Into my mind the guilt, it spreads I must make a choice It is now throughout my head I still hear her voice. I will not die, but pay the price. In solitude, in fear. A haunted soul, now cold like ice Haunted by her tear. Aidan Ross