I’m dying from pain, from sadness, I’m dying from cold which is here And I see that nothing is present In suffering hearts of people Except the empty spaces full of hurt, Except the fresh blood wounds so widely spread… The rhythm of still alive heart is still heard But in spite of it, it’s almost dead. And I let it go keeping silent As if I’m at the same time dumb and blind. I’ll wake up once and give an awful sound Seeing it somewhere high… behind the clouds…