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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