JOURNEY HOME
I do not know why you look at me with cold eyes
And I do not know why you look for so many words
to describe this short lived life
Sometimes you make rank nonsense of all human aspirations and endeavors
"Death is the labourer's reward that gives him wings above native fires and city lights"
They say we waste what could be spent on earth
But we haste to a better place than earth
I do not know why you look at me with cold eyes
And I do not know why you look for so many words
to describe this short lived life
Sometimes you make rank nonsense of all human aspirations and endeavors
"Death is the labourer's reward that gives him wings above native fires and city lights"
They say we waste what could be spent on earth
But we haste to a better place than earth
Beautiful piece
ReplyDeleteMerci mon ami
ReplyDelete