The dead are cold in the ground, it's raining,
The barren trees are standing apart.
Walk softly, it seems you're treading
On the grave of my heart.
The sheets of paper are flittering gently,
The heavy raindrops are falling like stones.
Keep silent, it seems you're friendly,
When not treading my bones.
The somber skies are frowning downwards,
The wounded birds are twittering high.
Look down, there's no use for null words
In the cemetery cry.
04. 2015