It ought to be A harbor for innocent Victims, martyrs, Lambs slaughtered In flowering youth Solace of implacable Misfortune of being Vale of the vow. All those departed With no light in candles Melting hearts like wax In solitude of amnesia Of narrow graves of loam. Those untidy souls Homeless on this earth At the poles of history Waiting for their death A welcome reprieve. Those souls undone Eyes not even yet open To take a short glimpse At the gentle light. If time is endless avatar It ought to be somewhere An angelic dominion Where pain has fled And sorrow and sigh For pure souls to retire Sad, grievous and unhappy All those innocent lambs Taken away from earth By those who could not Walk in their blessed shoes.
sâmbătă, 31 mai 2025