The echoing cries of frogs Sink into my nerves, yet I Better overlook their brags And only heave a sigh As I stand here still Facing my Arayat No younger than a hill As the dying sunrays cut The bloodied skies turning Vermilion, finally black I begin realizing The dead cannot come back. You disguise yourself upon The spread of darkness Over the lonely meadows of Gapan And I feel helpless, Drowning in a field of tears, Anticipating In what seems a million years Vainly waiting For your return Though you are long dead And I must learn To believe what I dread: Your life is already taken And never will you come again.
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