quinta-feira, 9 de novembro de 2017

GRAY MORNING



The sky is pallid.
Strokes of paint with no color…
The mist reigns over mountains,
Where sadness is present.

I could find joy,
Joy of understanding,
That sad mornings, makes you gray…
And pale clouds ask for rain.

Rain, like tears from my eyes…
Rivers that drown my sight…
With sadness that takes my heart,
And make me cry…




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