Now is more often making mistakes,
June is coming, green fields are around,
My saint name will remain in poetry,
My heart and blood Its Memento Mori.
Its third of June, I want it thirteen,
A prison is around me adobe of sorrow.
If I wanted to live I would not believe in death.
There was raining by the mountain, it is fog,
I didnt know such a smile before.
Now Im watching the sky, there are burning
Stars tokens of white eternity.
I dont know what to do, when Im like this,
When shadow of old age is stalking by soul.
I strong talent, heavenly creature,
My tender homeland sky azure.
What can I do, night is black, heavy and gloomy,
I remember my village, its remote places.
Now wand something else, something without name,
I know for sure, collapse awaits me.
Days slowly pass and its hard to see difference,
I, my dear, wont come, its long way to you,
My name: Graneli will remain in poetry,
My heart and blood Its Memento Mori.
