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Where are your graves?

You cannot hear a bird's song.

Innocent lives

witnesses for disaster.

Forgotten names

what have become of them?

In a wild river

never can they awake.

Penetrating flames

they're calling to myself.

God sees it from afar

but leaves it till the end.

I wish I could drive away

these clouds by my strong breath.

You wouldn't have to wait for salvation and empty future.

I knew the gorgeous woods and valleys,

scents of flowers and trees.

Now you are living in Lakeland and dying days.