The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land Plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky: A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers, But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking He's haunted by the memory of a lost paradise In his youth or a dream, he can't be precise He's chained forever to a world that's departed It's not enough, it's not enough His blood has frozen & curdled with fright His knees have trembled & given way in the night His hand has weakened at the moment of truth His step has faltered One world, one soul Time pass, the river rolls It's not enough it's not enough His hand has faltered .... .... ...... And he talks to the river of lost love and dedication And silent replies that swirl invitation Flow dark and troubled to an oily sea A grim intimation of what is to be There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night And there's dust in my eyes, that blinds my sight And silence that speaks so much louder that words, Of promises broken Giờ em mong manh như khói Giờ ta nắng đã chiều rồi Tình xưa giờ như chiếc lá Bay đi phương nào, tan tác muôn nơi..........
Wow, All I can say is wow. The words are great. Areyou in pin now or what? If you are, sorry about that. Cheer up. Life isn't that bad anyway. It's preety cool.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way. Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town Waiting for someone or something to show you the way. Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain. You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today. And then one day you find ten years have got behind you. No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun. So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking Racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older, Shorter of breath and one day closer to death. Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time. Plans that either come to nought or half a page of scribbled lines Hanging on in quiet desparation is the English way The time is gone, the song is over, Thought I'd something more to say. Home, home again. I like to be here when I can. When I come home cold and tired It's good to warm my bones beside the fire. Far away across the field The tolling of the iron bell Calls the faithful to their knees To hear the softly spoken magic spells. Giờ em mong manh như khói Giờ ta nắng đã chiều rồi Tình xưa giờ như chiếc lá Bay đi phương nào, tan tác muôn nơi..........
