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Man and Woman

[ According to Maori mythology, the god Tiki created Man by taking a piece of clay and moistening it with his own blood. Woman was the offspring of a sunbeam and a sylvan echo .]
THUS God made Man to cope with destiny:
Taking the common clay, God moistened it
With His red blood; and so for ever lit
That sombre grossness with divinity.
So Man for ever finds him in the mesh
Of clogging earth; and though divine hopes thrill
And flush his leaping heart, it faints, for still
His dreams are pinioned in the gyves of flesh.
Yet ever God's blood in him courses free,
And, penetrated with eternal hope,
Up Evolution's long, uneven slope
Man lifts him from his sodden ancestry!
And though his eyes the far goal cannot see,
And half the terrors of the dark he knows,
Yet with an inward fire his courage glows;
He bears the torch of immortality.
But Woman from a memory had birth,
Into the forest's dignity of shade
A sudden sunbeam groped—a soft hand laid
In silent benediction on the earth.

Then filtered through the green a song forlorn
Of some forgotten bird. Lo! in a mist
Of love the sunbeam and the echo kissed,
And Woman—sunlit memory—was born.
So light and melody to her belong—
The sunlight in the dying echo blurred!
So Woman came—a vision and a word
From the unknown—a sunbeam and a song!
So ever through the forest of the years
Shall Man pursue and still pursue the gleam
That wavers and is gone; and through his dream
The fainting echo of a song he hears.
And when at last his weary feet are led
Into the sacred glade, and she stands there,
He takes her close—all song and sunlit hair:
The gleam has faded and the song has fled!
And though with blinded eyes he cannot see,
She haunts him like a word that he knows not—
That is not quite remembered, nor forgot—
Some thought that hovers near a memory.
As out from Heaven she leans, on earth there falls
The sunbeam of her hair, golden and fine;
And drops an echo of a voice divine—
A voice that ever vainly calls and calls!

And though she spill a splendour and a fire
Upon the dark, her glory is unknown;
Behind the screen of self she dwells alone
She cannot come as close as her desire.
So ever like a pale moon drowned in mist
Her face is vague—a barrier intervenes;
And ever from her loneliness she leans,
With waiting eyes, all-wistful to be kissed!

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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The Rape Of The Mist

High o’er the clouds a Sunbeam shone,
And far down under him,
With a subtle grace that was all her own,
The Mist gleamed, fair and dim.

He looked at her with burning eyes
And longed to fall at her feet;
Of all sweet things there under the skies,
He thought her the thing most sweet.

He had wooed oft, as a Sunbeam may,
Wave, and blossom, and flower;
But never before had he felt the sway
Of a great love’s mighty power.

Tall cloud-mountains and vast space-seas,
Wind, and tempest, and fire –
What obstacles such as these
To a heart that is filled with desire?

Boldly he trod over cloud and star,
Boldly he swam through space,
She caught the glow of his eyes afar
And veiled her delicate face.

He was so strong and he was so bright,
And his breath was a breath of flame;
The Mist grew pale with a vague, strange fright,
As fond, yet fierce, he came.

Close to his heart she was clasped and kissed;
She swooned in love’s alarms,
And dead lay the beautiful pale-faced Mist
In the Sunbeam’s passionate arms.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Echo

Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Everywhere I go
There's something I really need
Everyone I know
Is someone I want to be
Even though
I don't really know me
I better pick it up
Before I let it slip away
I better stick it out
Before I take another day
Into mouth
Everything I say fades out
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Can I open up your eyes?
Only when the clouds break?
Can I feel the light?
Even though the world shakes
Every night,
You're my quiet satellite
Can I hold you close?
Do her out of focus
And everything I know
I don't even know this
It all falls through
I'm here and I hear you
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Cause I need to, just to reach you
Do you hear me?
Coming clearly?
Am I hollow?
Just an echo
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...

song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman And The Weed

(FOUNDED ON A NEW ZEALAND MYTH.)

In the Morning of Time, when his fortunes began,
How bleak, how un-Greek, was the Nature of Man!
From his wigwam, if ever he ventured to roam,
There was nobody waiting to welcome him home;
For the Man had been made, but the woman had NOT,
And Earth was a highly detestable spot.
Man hated his neighbours; they met and they scowled,
They did not converse but they struggled and howled,
For Man had no tact--he would ne'er take a hint,
And his notions he backed with a hatchet of flint.

So Man was alone, and he wished he could see
On the Earth some one like him, but fairer than he,
With locks like the red gold, a smile like the sun,
To welcome him back when his hunting was done.
And he sighed for a voice that should answer him still,
Like the affable Echo he heard on the hill:
That should answer him softly and always agree,
AND OH, Man reflected, HOW NICE IT WOULD BE!

So he prayed to the Gods, and they stooped to his prayer,
And they spoke to the Sun on his way through the air,
And he married the Echo one fortunate morn,
And Woman, their beautiful daughter, was born!
The daughter of Sunshine and Echo she came
With a voice like a song, with a face like a flame;
With a face like a flame, and a voice like a song,
And happy was Man, but it was not for long!

For weather's a painfully changeable thing,
Not always the child of the Echo would sing;
And the face of the Sun may be hidden with mist,
And his child can be terribly cross if she list.
And unfortunate Man had to learn with surprise
That a frown's not peculiar to masculine eyes;
That the sweetest of voices can scold and can sneer,
And cannot be answered--like men--with a spear.

So Man went and called to the Gods in his woe,
And they answered him--'Sir, you would needs have it so:
And the thing must go on as the thing has begun,
She's immortal--your child of the Echo and Sun.
But we'll send you another, and fairer is she,
This maiden with locks that are flowing and free.
This maiden so gentle, so kind, and so fair,
With a flower like a star in the night of her hair.
With her eyes like the smoke that is misty and blue,
With her heart that is heavenly, and tender, and true.
She will die in the night, but no need you should mourn,
You shall bury her body and thence shall be born
A weed that is green, that is fragrant and fair,
With a flower like the star in the night of her hair.
And the leaves must ye burn till they offer to you
Soft smoke, like her eyes that are misty and blue.

'And the smoke shall ye breathe and no more shall ye fret,
But the child of the Echo and Sun shall forget:
Shall forget all the trouble and torment she brings,
Shall bethink ye of none but delectable things;
And the sound of the wars with your brethren shall cease,
While ye smoke by the camp-fire the great pipe of peace.'
So the last state of Man was by no means the worst,
The second gift softened the sting of the first.

Nor the child of the Echo and Sun doth he heed
When he dreams with the Maid that was changed to the weed;
Though the Echo be silent, the Sun in a mist,
The Maid is the fairest that ever was kissed.
And when tempests are over and ended the rain,
And the child of the Sunshine is sunny again,
He comes back, glad at heart, and again is at one
With the changeable child of the Echo and Sun.

poem by Andrew Lang
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What Is Woman But A Song!

There was love, and there was beauty,
In the face upturned to me;
And her hair was long and golden,
Soft to touch and good to see;
Her blue eyes were full of laughter
As they burned into my own,
Glowing like a priceless diamond—
Fascinating as that stone.

What is life but love, devotion!—
What is woman but a song—
But a lyric caught from Nature—
But an echo sounding long—
Filling all the earth with gladness—
Filling all the earth with madness—
What is woman but a song!

poem by Timothy Thomas Fortune
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The Birth Of The Opal

The Sunbeam loved the Moonbeam,
And followed her low and high,
But Moonbeam fled and hid her head,
She was so shy – so shy.

The Sunbeam wooed with passion;
Ah, he was a lover bold!
And his heart was afire with mad desire
For the moonbeam pale and cold.

She fled like a dream before him,
Her hair was a shining sheen,
And oh, that Fate would annihilate
The space that lay between!

Just as the day lay panting
In the arms of the twilight dim,
The Sunbeam caught the one he sought
And drew her close to him.

But out of his warm arms, startled
And stirred by Love’s first shock,
She sprang afraid, like a trembling maid,
And hid in the niche of a rock.

And the Sunbeam followed and found her
And led her to Love’s own feast;
And they were wed on that rocky bed,
And the dying day was priest.

And lo! the beautiful Opal –
That rare and wondrous gem –
Where the moon and the sun blend into one,
Is the child that was born to them.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The sing of song

it's a song without title
a song without word
a song without sound

a song in our eyes
a song in our ears
a song in our hands
a song in our feet

We are singing the song
without title
a nameless song
It's a distant song
It's a future song

A song who says:
beyond future, beyond distances,
beyond nothing, beyond always

a song in a single colour
that we don't see

many colours
much colours
unknown colours

this was
a song of your mother
a song of your grandmothers
a song of one very old woman

Sleep, sleep my little love
Dream, dream my little love
when you close open your wide eyes

poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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A Memory Shall Flow

Into a melody, a memory shall flow
Guided by an echo, and, ever so slow
O're to the mountains, t'is dancing on a breeze
T'is the echo laughing with the trees.

Into the sky to the path of the unknown
A great many memories, o're the miles have flown
Remember an echo has a memory in tow
T'is yours for the picking, t'is yours to show.

Into an echo conducting its humble chores
When to look upon a memory is completely yours
Building a mountain of memories an echo's test
To pick from a tree, the memories I like best.

poem by M. Rene Riel
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Come to Me, Sunbeam! I'm Dying

Come to me, Sunbeam! I'm dying
Uncared for, distress'd and alone.
Even now the pale angel with icy hand seizes
The heart that throbb'd along with your own.
Darling! delay not; for enginewheel stay not;
But wing'd by love, fly to my side:
Swift as the morning-beams fly, or I may not
Your coming abide.

Bring the calm joy of your presence--
To a chill'd heart the warmth of your love;
With a glance of these dear eyes this darkness illumine,
Until there comes light from above.
Eyes that shine clearest, with language sincerest,
Come speak me forgiven and bless'd:
Would you refuse me, my chosen! my dearest!
This dying request?

Still for your footsteps I listen;
Each momemt I listen and long
For the voice that might break this dead silence with music
As sweet as an angelic song.
Can you not hear me? Oh will you not cheer me,
At least with one loving adieu?
Yield me how can I when you are not near me?
I'm dying for you.

One in this world, and one only,
Could soothe me, could comfort me now;
Charm'd away were my anguish and you here beside me,
Your gentle hand laid on my brow.
Come, I entrust you! If once I might meet you--
Sweet Sunbeam! what doubts you dispel!
Clasp my hand; kiss me, love! so will I greet you
In Heaven ... Farewell!

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Echo Song

I

Who can say where Echo dwells?
In some mountain-cave, methinks,
Where the white owl sits and blinks;
Or in deep sequestered dells,
Where foxglove hangs its bells,
Echo dwells.
Echo!
Echo!

II

Phantom of the crystal Air,
Daughter of sweet Mystery!
Here is one has need of thee;
Lead him to thy secret lair,
Myrtle brings he for thy hair--
Hear his prayer,
Echo!
Echo!

III

Echo lift thy drowsy head,
And repeat each charmëd word
Thou must needs have overheard
Yestere'en ere, rosy-red,
Daphne down the valley fled--
Words unsaid,
Echo!
Echo!

IV

Breathe the vows she since denies!
She hath broken every vow;
What she would she would not now--
Thou didst hear her perjuries.
Whisper, whilst I shut my eyes,
Those sweet lies,
Echo!
Echo!

poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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And There is...an Echo

And there is an echo
A voice without voice
Floats and repeats
The real sound of voice

That is echo
Praised by the mute
Who shouts in the sea of mist
Without someone to know

That is echo
Swing by the name
But it ignores and says
Steals the sound of real voice

But let the echo
Takes the voice and echoes
Before the power is gone
And disappears word by word

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Lover's Gifts LXX: Take Back Your Coins

Take back your coins, King's Councillor. I am of those women you
sent to the forest shrine to decoy the young ascetic who had never
seen a women. I failed in your bidding.
Dimly day was breaking when the hermit boy came to bathe in
the stream, his tawny locks crowded on his shoulders, like a
cluster of morning clouds, and his limbs shining like a streak of
sunbeam. We laughed and sang as we rowed in our boat; we jumped
into the river in a mad frolic, and danced around him, when the sun
rose staring at us from the water's edge in a flush of divine
anger.
Like a child-god, the boy opened his eyes and watched our
movements, the wonder deepening till his eyes shone like morning
stars. He lifted his clasped hands and chanted a hymn of praise in
his bird-like young voice, thrilling every leaf of the forest.
Never such words were sung to a mortal woman before; they were like
the silent hymn to the dawn which rises from the hushed hills. THe
women hid their mouths with their hands, their bodies swaying with
laughter, and a spasm of doubt ran across his face. Quickly came
I to his side, sorely pained, and, bowing to his feet, I said,
"Lord, accept my service."
I led him to the grassy bank, wiped his body with the end of
my silken mantle, and, kneeling on the ground, I dried his feet
with my trailing hair. When I raised my face and looked into his
eyes, I thought I felt the world's first kiss to the first woman,
-Blessed am I, blessed is God, who made me a woman. I heard him say
to me, "What God unknown are you? YOur touch is the touch of the
Immortal, your eyes have the mystery of the midnight."
Ah, no, not that smile, King's Councillor, -the dust of
worldly wisdom has covered your sight, old man. But this boy's
innocence pierced the mist and saw the shining truth, the woman
divine....
The women clapped their hands, and laughed their obscene
laugh, and with veils dragged on the dust and hair hanging loose
they began to pelt him with flowers.
Alas, my spotless sun, could not my shame weave fiery mist to
cover you in its folds? I fell at his feet and cried, "Forgive me.
" I fled like a stricken deer through shade and sun, and cried as
I fled, " Forgive me. " The women's foul laughter pressed me like
a cracking fire, but the words ever rang in my ears, " What God
unknown are you?"

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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I Hear The Echo by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika (Translated from Assamese)

I hear the echo
I hear the echo
I hear the echo

I hear the echo
Of the screaming night
Carried over from the other side
Of the mountain bodering my village

I hear the echo

I train my ears but can't hear a thing
I open my eyes wide but can't see a thing
I close my eyes and think, but do not understand
I don't know how to climb a thousand mountains
I hear the echo of the screaming night

I hear the echo

May be its the tragic story of a young girl
May be its grandma's bedtime fairy tale
May be its the longing of a farmer's nursery

The tragic story of the young girl has come to an end
The bed time fairy tale of grandma has come to an end
The longings of the farmer's nursery has come to an end
The familiar song still escapes me
I hear the echo of the new cry

I hear the echo

My dark hair get tinted with morning's red hues
The panicky mist before the eyes vanishes to the blue
A thousand cries come out of a people awakened
A thousand mountains crumble in the impact of its sound

I hear an approaching storm in the sea of humanity
I hear the echo of the new cry

I hear the echo...

- Dr. Bhupen Hazarika (1953)

© Syed Ahmed Shah(Translator) , Bokultol, Guwahati.

poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
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If I Was Your Woman / Walk On By

(Talking) Hey Yo, Mo B, Drop it on me.
Yeah, yeah let's do it like this
If I was your woman
And you were my man
You'd have no other woman
You'd be weak as a lamb.
If you had the strength.
To walk out my door.
My love would overrule my sins.
And I'd call you back for more.
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
And you were my man, yeahhh
She tears you down darling
Says you're nothing at all
But I'll pick you up darling
When she lets you fall
Cause, You're like a diamond
But she treats you like glass
Yet you begged her to love you
For me you won't ask
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
Here's what I'd do
I'd never, never, no, no, stop lovin you.
Yeahhhhhhh, Yeah, mmm hmm
Life is so crazy
And love is unkind
Because she was first darling
Will she hang on your mind?
You're part of me
But you don't even know it
I'm what you need
But I'm too afraid to show it
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
Here's what I'd do
I'd never, never, no, no, stop lovin you
If I was your woman
Here's what I'd do
I'd never, never, never stop lovin you.
Uh,yeah, yeah,yea,yea,yea,yeah
(background)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo fades)

song performed by by Alicia Keys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maybe Baby

I heard stories about you
Id like to think that they were true
I did not know youd be like that
With those surprises under hat
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
When you dance between the stars
In the night late sweet and dark
Turn them over one by one
You dont need to jump the gun
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
When the night is feeling flush
And when the night is all a hush
Electric look eclectic blue
Keep one dream that wont come true
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my maybe baby
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my ma-aybe baby
Be my (echo), be my (echo), be my ma-aybe baby
Maybe baby
Maybe baby
Be my, be my, be my, be my maybe baby
Maybe baby
Maybe baby
Youre the one (? )
Maybe baby
Maybe baby
Maybe baby
Be my, be my, be my, be my maybe baby
(unintelligible) maybe baby
I heard stories about you
Id like to think that they were true
Be my maybe (? )
Be my, be my, be my, be my
(fade)

song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gypsy Woman

From nowhere through the caravan
Round the campfire light
Lovely woman in motion
With hair as dark as night
Her eyes were like that of a cat in the dark
That hypnotized me with love
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She danced around and round
Guitars melody
From the fire her face was aglow
How she enchanted me
Id like to hold her near
And kiss her hair and whisper in her ear
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
All through the caravan
She was dancing with all the men
Waiting for the rising sun
Everyone was having fun
Hated to see her go
Knowing that shell never know
That I love her
That I love her
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
Whoever compared it to part monkey part man hit the nail on the head. it has that same kind of dark, mysterious sound. the vocals are soft and understated, somewhat reminiscent to those on if I should fall behind or pony boy. the song is sung with that nasally twang bruce has grown so fond of lately.

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Watcher on the Tower

I
The Voice of a Man

WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?

The Voice of a Woman

Yea, what of it?

The Watcher

A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

But God is there above it.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

II
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Night of sorrow!

The Watcher

Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

Have courage! There’s To-morrow!

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

III
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Is it other?

The Watcher

I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

The Morning comes, my Brother.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

IV
Voice of the Man

What now, what now, O Watcher?

The Watcher

Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?

Voice of the Woman

The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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The Song Within Me

There lives a Song within me
There exists a melody in me
I am pregnant of a special Song
This Song energizes my soul
The echo is eternal
Many hears Him
Few believe His lyrics
Few elects enjoy listening to Him
The sound is sonorous
The percussion is melodious
He is unique and distinct
The lines are not composed by man
But divinely arranged
To bring succour to the hopeless
This Song is the eternal Rock
Mountains are thrashed by my Song
Boisterous storms are quietened by my Song
He enlivens my spirit
He is an everlasting Song
Who ever does not know this Song
Is bereft of the incandescent Light
Without the Song
Life is unsung
So, join me to sing my Song
My Song is Jesus Christ.

poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Song And Dance Man

Last night I felt a wind
of change blow through me.
It spoke of a million things
before I die I should see.
Open up your eyes.
Life is poetry in motion.
Ride the open sky
I'll be ok as soon as I'm on my way
I am a song and dance man
Yes, I am a song and dance man
Woman. Oh, woman, sometimes I hear your voice.
It calls out to me,
makes my heart bleed.
Haven't got any chance.
Open my eyes.
Life is poetry in motion
Ride the open sky.
I'll be ok as soon as I'm on my way.
I am a song and dance man
Oh yes I am, a song and dance man
I am a song and dance man
Tokyo has rolling thunder
beautiful women and warm summer rain
Honolulu has stars of fire
words alone cannot explain
Open up your eyes
Spread your wings and fly
Oh Lord I am a song and dance man
Oh Lord I am a song and dance man
That's what I am
A song and dance man

song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song And Dance Man

Last night I felt a wind
of change blow through me.
It spoke of a million things
before I die I should see.
Open up your eyes.
Life is poetry in motion.
Ride the open sky
I'll be ok as soon as I'm on my way
I am a song and dance man
Yes, I am a song and dance man
Woman. Oh, woman, sometimes I hear your voice.
It calls out to me,
makes my heart bleed.
Haven't got any chance.
Open my eyes.
Life is poetry in motion
Ride the open sky.
I'll be ok as soon as I'm on my way.
I am a song and dance man
Oh yes I am, a song and dance man
I am a song and dance man
Tokyo has rolling thunder
beautiful women and warm summer rain
Honolulu has stars of fire
words alone cannot explain
Open up your eyes
Spread your wings and fly
Oh Lord I am a song and dance man
Oh Lord I am a song and dance man
That's what I am
A song and dance man

song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Funeral Song

Who will sing the funeral songs of mine?
O my dear heart
Think and observe all the elements
Than answers the question truly
Who will sing the songs of funeral for you?
Who will congratulate you on your ultimate success.

I sing the song of love,
The songs of my heart,
The ultimate pronounce for the sake of love.
Then who will sing the songs of my innocence heart
When all the songs of mine will stop for ever.

Lives comes, lives goes,
Death gives birth of new souls.
Behold the history of the love
The heart which processes the love
Acquire the immortality of heart.

Behold the history of love,
The heart which can love like those
Achieves the immortality of soul.
Only for the ability to worship the heart of love
Those can’t attain by any eternal senses.

Only the nominated, elected and selected souls
By the mercy of Heaven
Can have the power to love.

Love, earnestly love thy souls
And in return you will have the love.
The love will as sanctified as the love of you,
The love will concern with heart
As much as concern with your heart.
The heart will sing the funeral song for you,
The love will sing the love song for you,
The love will make you alive
In the mortal days of lives,
Worship your heart,
Remember your songs,
Nothing else nor the others
But only love, only love.

Only the love can survive you
After the thousands years of your death.
Though died, possesses a newer mortal life
I perceive the fact, I do perceive of fact.
The love will sing for you
I do confidently declare by the Lord’s name
The love will congratulate at your conquer
The love will sing the joyous song of your joy.

O love,
O the love,
I know, I hear and I behold.
The love,
The eco of love,
The alliteration of love.

I heed the echoes of love
From the origin of soul
To the present day of the life
From Adam to the computer.
I hear the echo,
I do hear the echo.

O the loving soul
Hold your ear in the air,
You also have the sound of the echo,
The sacred echo – love, love and love.
The love will sing the song for my funeral,
The love will congratulate me
With heartiest affection of love,
The love will remember me in the earth,
The love will give a newer birth of mine
After the death of my earthen form.

I do proud in this sense
I have the heart
And I have the potency,
The mighty Lord’s mercy
To love, to love earnestly.
The love, the ability to love,
This love will sing my funeral song
And alive me in this earth
Until the last day of the light of the sun.
I sing for this love,
I do sing for this love.

poem by Md. Moniruzzaman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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