We didn’t have
any microphone.
We sang,
with the might
of twenty lions,
a savage melody
as soft as flowing water,
a deafening pitch
thar ripped the wind.
It was out of tune,
our joyful voices
lamented spells of hope,
echoing furiously
against the trees
and all over the town.
They heard us
but we didn’t mind.
Maybe everyone heard us.
They wouldn’t understand.
At that jade corner
of the world,
which was ours
and where only us could be heard
we sang with the might of twenty lions
until our voices faded away.