When the days are gone,
And the night comes knocking,
At the entrance of our beautiful gate
A path made for Peter and John,
And the stars fading to a rare hue.
We bind our pain,
And our sorrow makes a narrow path on our faces;
The stream of tears flows,
Believing the honey bitter memory
Will never stop hunting.
When the dead meets the dead,
And the living mourning the departure,
We shall bid farewell and adieu,
To the beautiful soul defeated by death.
Glorious but painful exit it is.
A great competitor of life,
An enemy of breath.
A close friend to sorrow and pain,
A judgement all shall face!