Sad song
There's a diesel-train a-running
Through the song on the radio.
The winter moon a silver sickel in the West,
Waiting for golden fields to embrace,
And I remember... your cherry lips
As ‘good-by' waived a hand in your brown eyes.
The rhythm of the train in the song
Cuts through the lonely landscapes of my heart.
I see the silver threats of rivers
In the moonlight... as we stood
Silently in the cool breath of the night.
You promised me:
‘You'll never hear good-by
Over these lips... I swear.'
But freezing winds of ‘good-by'
blew across those cherry lips.
I stood there listening
To a diesel - train a-running through my soul
a sad, sad song on the radio.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
running through my soul. Fine tune. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.