Even with closed eyes- I see them vividly,
The stretched darkness, bitter melancholy.
They dance up-down, my head-my toe.
Glued to my eyes, but I recall no more.

Written by the angels,blessed by heaven,
And I pour them meticulously,out of my pen.
They would fall like rain,on a parched soil,
Guided by the stars,a guide to my hands.

Call it a tragedy -I left them so bluntly.
I have nothing but, the stollen symphony.
Don't sing like they did -oh the dream I had,
I would sit and cry, but I recall no more.