There will be a time when the entire realm of freedom will evaporate into the night. Fire will rage through your land of mirth, Wisdom will shake hands with the ruins of your last, very personal encounter in bed...
An entire generation is swaying... Swaying unto the horizon of knowledge. A deep despair of a dissatisfied, demoralizing death. Death will speak to you even in the processions you take part... Even when there is a ray of sunlight creeping through the cracks of time... It will smile to you like a warm, friendly hand.
I do not speak of love It is out of the box of my comprehension. Or apprehension. But oh my brother! I wait for the sign love carved on the guitar... I will stare at the clouds and wait... I will look out for the poets of other worlds to leap into my soul...
I prefer darkness to light, and the night to the day for the night brings me my Moon... I can hide my true self in its realms... If you look upon me O dear sweet night, bring m the time when the world, so bright in itself, will need no light.
I shall not rest till the night provides light to all... Though political, yet philosophical will be the times... and till that day arrives When Freedom shall plant a sweet kiss upon my lips. And then my wretched soul shall rest in the arms of Death And travel onto a happier world and wait...wait...wait...