| [01:09.10] |
Procession moves on, the shouting is over, |
| [01:17.98] |
Praise to the glory of loved ones now gone. |
| [01:26.27] |
Talking aloud as they sit round their tables, |
| [01:35.27] |
Scattering flowers washed down by the rain. |
| [01:44.06] |
Stood by the gate at the foot of the garden, |
| [01:52.95] |
Watching them pass like clouds in the sky, |
| [02:01.38] |
Try to cry out in the heat of the moment, |
| [02:10.07] |
Possessed by a fury that burns from inside. |
| [03:29.48] |
Cry like a child, though these years make me older, |
| [03:38.00] |
With children my time is so wastefully spent, |
| [03:46.92] |
A burden to keep, though their inner communion, |
| [03:55.34] |
Accept like a curse an unlucky deal. |
| [04:04.24] |
Played by the gate at the foot of the garden, |
| [04:12.72] |
My view stretches out from the fence to the wall, |
| [04:21.47] |
No words could explain, no actions determine, |
| [04:29.95] |
Just watching the trees and the leaves as they fall. |