A keresés eredménye

Annual Rings

Versions: #1
Our ancestors haven’t been lying,
We see that now,
When hey told us
Everyone’s train
Will reach its destination one day.
And the last mile
Is a sad finale.
 
We’re trees with fate,
And a rare species at that.
We gain a new ring
Every year.
We gain volume
Through the power of our roots
And all that’s left then
Is dust and air.
 
You see, ‘last but not least’
Is not the rule here.
The road winds and winds,
And suddenly the cage has dropped.
Then you can be thankful,
Then you can search your heart,
Don’t wait for the solstice of your life,
It’s not coming.
 
Not yet!
 
No, not yet, the bad times haven’t come yet.
Our forest is getting cut down already1, run and hide where you can.
Give me, please give me at least one more day.
We’re running out of rings, wo won’t be there tomorrow.
 
What you gain in youth
Will be stolen by old age.2
And sooner or later
Every tree shall fall.
One beautiful second
Costs us an hour
From our finale.
 
It’s written in our palms
In our fates.
And those long stories
Cannot be erased.
But maybe you can regret them,
Feel helpless, and lament.
Don’t wait for the solstice of your life,
It’s not coming.
 
Not yet!
 
No, not yet, the bad times haven’t come yet.
Our forest is getting cut down already, run and hide where you can.
Give me, please give me at least one more day.
We’re running out of rings, wo won’t be there tomorrow.
 
No, not yet, the bad times haven’t come yet.
Our forest is getting cut down already, run and hide where you can.
Give me, please give me at least one more day.
We’re running out of rings, wo won’t be there tomorrow.
 
No, not yet, the bad times haven’t come yet.
Our forest is getting cut down already, run and hide where you can.
Give me, please give me at least one more day.
We’re running out of rings, wo won’t be there tomorrow.
 
Our ancestors haven’t been lying.
 

• 1. A phrase typically used by older people as they reach the age when their peers begin passing away
• 2. a play at the idiom ‘what you learn in youth will feel like a discovery in old age’

A Coat of Many Colors

A coat of many colors was worn by the garden
And richly woven garments were the clothes of its grass
And a tunic of chequer work was donned by each tree
Which then showed its beauty to every watching eye
Each flower bud has rebloomed for the new springtime
And laughed as spring drew near
 
But then the Lily passed before them
A King for high is His throne
Out He came from His prison cell
And changed out of His prison uniform
Whoever does not drink wine in His honor
Is a sinner, who shall be punished.