And maybe we shall find some joy in grief,
While singing up to dawn the poems,
brother.
We have refused the Lord,
but still believe
That He'll allow us to forgive each other.
Let bitter darkness will become the wine
To drink it is a pleasure,
we are sure,
The voices are so fine, so wise, so pure,
The poems try to save us
like divine.
It's not the feast of love,
alas,
alas...
But our souls are openly sincere,
We need a candle.
Where is it?
Oh, dear!
We lighten it.
The flame is near, thus.
To have the friends who understand your world,
Who help you to forget your past and future,
To share sorrow, fortune, heat and cold.
The candle burns.
The sins are also mutual.