After hearing the voice of despotism,

the cries of the hungry looking in the trash for bread,

the bitter language of solitude,

I look in the blue sky for serenity;

I create a landscape and try to dream

 

I seek peace among the white fingers of the aurora

 

After not finding the line of understanding,

the root of the soul,

the wind of justice,

the submerged freedom,

I look in the blue sky for serenity;

I create a landscape and try to dream

 

I seek peace among the white fingers of the aurora

 

What we were was forgotten,

in the dark faces of suffering;

in the raucous silence,

in the void of those who have gone

 

I seek in the blue of the sky serenity;

I create a landscape and try to dream

 

I seek peace among the white fingers of the aurora

© Noris Roberts