sobota, 9 maja 2015

pustki / voids / tren VIII kochanowski

your flight my dearest caused
this vast emptiness in my house
we are a crowd yet no one's here
one tiny soul and so much is gone
U spoke and sang for all alone
skipped around in every corner of the house
never let your mother fret
never let your father brood
hugging one and then the other
cheering all with joyful laughter
now all is silent the house stands bare
there's no laughter song or joy
from every corner stares remorseless grief
as gnawing heartache vainly seeks relief
Wielkieś mi uczyniła pustki w domu moim,

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