death · Faith

House of glass

A house of glass,
where everybody knows
what we are truly looking for.

My beautiful and young wide hope,
the river flows, while we begin
to loosen up our burning rope.

A house of glass,
where we each one feels
what every word has been meant for.

My groom awaits in quiet room,
I’ve gotten old, while I begin
the strengthening of my gold wings.

A house of glass,
where all is warm,
the heart sets in, and fingers roam.

My beautiful and yellow bird,
I feel so cold, I feel so cold,
as though I swiftly turn to stone.

Romanian version

 

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