I am a man of heart and my heart it is that you know it not
How is it, how the things of it,
Never have you tried to know that,
To feel it,
How the pains raking it!
My pain the pain of my heart,
My own,
Which but you know not,
How does it rake the poor heart!
Many a day have I thought that I shall not,
But my nostalgia, homesickness
Whom to tell, whom to share with
As my days spent they there
And I think about all those days slid away,
Fleeting times of life
Which never do come again,
Which can never bring back
What it has gone away, flown away,
Leaving here
And in their memory I light a candle
But the strong wind lets it not burn.
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