The dawn dawns upon the sullen face,
Through the horizon that hides the newborn sun,
As the dusk exhausts its darkness,
An old man on the rocking chair
as usual,
Swinging between the past and present of his mind,
that resides in dreams of lost future,
looking at the still reflections of fading stars,
On the tiny pond that drowns the moon,
Waiting for the first chirp of birds,
to break the dark deafening silence,
A silence he once adored,
A darkness he got used to,
Today, he is too blind
to see the sky turning blue,
The moon shouldn't go away..
Today he is too deaf
to be disturbed by the morning songs,
At least the sun shouldn't weep..
Hush O' jubilant Birds,
Let him sleep...
