Night turns into black blood of evil
Humans running in mistiness.
Dying on the damp earth lie a laddie,
who for comfort could
not care less.
Warm, caressing weather freezes quickly
On a lonely path and lifeless way…
The gloomy stars of present year,
Fade from the eye that will forever sleep.
He will yet, let out a whisper,
and groan faintly.
The defender of the resolution,
They will bury in grassy hill,
So that comrades of our time
Can no longer count on him for help…
So that in the tales of apple blossom, it’s young.
By land light our girls write letters to their
suitors
to marry them in time.
They are tired of the life in their parents house
The urge to be a mother is in most of them
Which makes them get deflowered.
Thinking of their own life,
Learning no trace from their predecessors,
The birds no make mockery of their
cold situation,
Just as the chameleon refuse to show its true
colour.
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