These days
Drowse in silence
But when wind grows
Strong rains will drop
‘'Sometimes I hear what can't be heard in a summer evening threshold when fresh air luring with its crispness makes you stay outdoors for a while. For those who retain their sanity even when asleep and fear never waking up again the sounds are hidden. Thus the chain of events is foreseen and night replaces fading day. But the insane whose minds are possessed by enigmatic nymphs look through the silent evening regardless the clock tower dial and shiver and smell the scent of autumn soil moisture”
What has been seen
Cannot be forgotten
Even in a dream
At the edge of the morning dawn
I dive in echoes of the fall
Drift through freezing storms
To the gates of winter
Morning brainstorm melts in vanity
Of another day to dwell
As the slumber overtakes me
All those visions rise
Haunting memories enforce my agony
Entail spiritual decay
Colors blinding, sounds deafening
No return to life
Nymphs of wailing wind
Here I fall asleep
And all I have is yours
Just sing to me
Sing to me
Never fade away