I am going daft as if I step from a ship
Down the gangway, unhurriedly, slowly.
Clinging to fragments of memory chip;
My soul aches with deep pain realy.
I grew sorrowful over my loses
In the gathering darkness.
Ah, if only God mighty
Would choose to forgive me.
And every day, I ran again.
And so from year to year.
But all my life hoped-for shore
A kind of mirage Fata Morgan…