In the blurred teary moonlight,
I saw an angel sitting on a bloody cloud ...
He cocked his head thoughtfully in sorrow.
And the wings devoured with branches, behind his back.
And all his sorrow merged with blood into the abyss,
Accompanied by the pale tear of the moon suffering.
The remains of the wings, piercing through the splinters from the back,
Ruthlessly, as a tree roots tear the heart to shreds.
And the blood diluted with the thought of an angel about life
It flows from the heart of the time-worried anxieties.
And there is a quiet cry of the moon through the thoughts of an angel,
He who sits sadly over our sins, that his wings have been scorched.
And the weeping of the moon, and the angel of grief,
And the blood of sin ...
And the blood ... What a pity ...
"REFLECTIONS" Grandpa Go