Smoky-edge
We are the lovers but of nay love
the dreams after all these years
behind the doors wishing dove
oh my Bernadeath the ringing of bells;
at times- the beer; the cigarette
calling me to stay but where
the place I should be- the ticket
for a ride, like you waiting here;
bah! what is this loosing my name
without a face now facing the man
the lover, the dreamer but without a fame
just the promise from the beyond;
why you're gone in the brink of time?
yah! yah! they are right- I was wrong
loving you means, dying inside from the start
like a music the melody of emptiness- the song
the forever pain of my birth;
alas! leave me my love, leave me
never say the word- the poison
'I love you' but why- killed me yesterday!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem