a pot of wine to honour our youth, to life and death, of joy and grief
good and evil float in the dust, but what is white, and what is black?
honour befallen by injustice, promise yielding to sacrifice, resentment is unceasing and cruel
the nights are long, words still unsaid, patiently in the distance a flute plays
the moon is bright it sings, why dwell on past sadnesses, soar freely high and far
so be it then for I’ll awake, let’s not pretend to dream, and smile at the ever changing wind
