by Vladimir Marku
I raise my tearful eyes of the night
Look at the balcony of the hurt sky
The young lady day
Hanging clouds to dry.
The clouds dry, and I get quenched
Damping my hopes marrow
The sun of the soul already set
In pain, all universe.
I turn my head to look at me
How I pity my own eyes
Overwhelmed by my thoughts
Clouds drying rain on me.
Last updated September 20, 2012