søndag 2. august 2015

I ask the passing wind for news of how my people fare... But wind keeps silence on the truth and speaks of no despair.



I ask the rivers on which dreams
Are carried down the flood
but there's no calm in that rough stream
Just sorrow and bad blood.


They carry dreams but leave behind
Nothing of home but tears.
Oh rivers, what comfort will you find?
When no one ever hears.


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