Seventy-Eight
Like a ship on its voyage,
I'll cross a foreign stage,
with sails placed up high,
I'll whisper you goodbye
In nights black as velvet,
in waves still not tamed
Red will take my bracelet,
Blue will then be blamed.
I'll run from a village,
Of hearts carved in silver,
In winter ,I'll be cold
In summer - I'll find gold.
