Ninth Telegram
The trains roll over my heart
when they run South
and my bones are littered over the Northern rocks.
Why, when I yearn, do the trains' eyes become my window,
the sound of the train my tears?
Why should I be torn apart,
then tossed away by exile?
when they run South
and my bones are littered over the Northern rocks.
Why, when I yearn, do the trains' eyes become my window,
the sound of the train my tears?
Why should I be torn apart,
then tossed away by exile?
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.