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I`ve got sick by some lousy
unaware of it`s name.
And died near the river
and all in my pockets was stolen
by old strangers while they`ve been
they`ve pretended to be brave
I lie and blindly stare at rain.
And clouds black as memory
rush in the sky.
O Lord, it seems, I was quite busy.
It is him who did not remember about me
nor in the afternoon, nor in the night.
Indeed, if I would reach my home
then everything would be different.
I`ve had friends there.
I would be covered with newspapers
and would be mourned about
by those like me.
And my darling Gypsy girls
would make tea in the jar
while talking on
How slushy and moisty,
But the lodging over rocky bridge
is good anyway.
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But God did not sleep and was not busy.
While bowing to the earth Heavens has touch
The
hardened face.
Rains and storms that all over the earth
Are all
shed tears of
Heavenly Father
Over the son, who has been killed by satan,
Who has
gulped down from the wash-tub.
Over the
successor of a King,
Who has
forgot his kinship and childhood,
And precious legacy
was
Spent in
vain.
Seas and rivers of fatherly tears
On everyone
who has left forever,
About the
ones who vanished in the darkness.
The ones
who made the choice in passing
And called
an endless prison
A freedom.
I`ve got sick by some lousy
unaware of it`s name.
And my end has come.
But if something else would come from it,
I would rush Home as a wind,
To say: Father, forgive!
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