NOSTALGIA

I watch the children play hide and seek under the tall Palm tree,
Their feet sounding like the hooves of galloping steeds,
Their happiness fill the blissful air,
It makes me remember the days,
Only if the clocks could take me back to the old times,
Only if memories could create a flashback for my crumbling thoughts,
Only if time could rewind the present moment,
Those days varnish like smoke,
I've grown up like a big bird alone on a roof,
My days are like the evening shadow, I'm withering away like grass,
Those strong bones of mine that hunt during the past years are now weaker,
My beautiful heart that bear love is now blighted and wrinkled like grass,
In my distress, I'm reduced to skin and bones,
What is this world?
The sun will shine so bright in the morning, and shrivel away at dusk,
The stars and moon come up at twilight but the morning clouds will swallow them up,
My mortal like is like grass that flourish in the morning like a flower of the field,
When breeze blows, it is gone,
A life where rich and poor struggle and will end up in the same dust.I watch the children play hide and seek under the tall Palm tree,
Their feet sounding like the hooves of galloping steeds,
Their happiness fill the blissful air,
It makes me remember the days,
Only if the clocks could take me back to the old times,
Only if memories could create a flashback for my crumbling thoughts,
Only if time could rewind the present moment,
Those days varnish like smoke,
I've grown up like a big bird alone on a roof,
My days are like the evening shadow, I'm withering away like grass,
Those strong bones of mine that hunt during the past years are now weaker,
My beautiful heart that bear love is now blighted and wrinkled like grass,
In my distress, I'm reduced to skin and bones,
What is this world?
The sun will shine so bright in the morning, and shrivel away at dusk,
The stars and moon come up at twilight but the morning clouds will swallow them up,
My mortal like is like grass that flourish in the morning like a flower of the field,
When breeze blows, it is gone,
A life where rich and poor struggle and will end up in the same dust.