Many a broken heart
Shall quietly bid farewell to life.
Like a wall clock imprisoned by solitude,
A broken heart is never late for a date with death,
Whether the day is rising
Like a purple curtain,
Whether the night is falling
Like a silky black blind,
Broken hearts always have the same role,
To open the doors
Of hearts much harder than they are.
Echoes of broken hearts are heard beyond the heavenly dome,
Much louder than down below,
As if they promised themself to angels
Before death had arrived.
When the petals of a young rose fall to the consecrated ground,
Broken hearts rise up to heaven
To sing with angels
In praise of the Lord.
There isn’t too much joy to darkness,
The home of solitude,
The earthly shelter for broken hearts,
That are flying up to heaven so joyfully now,
To adorn themself with heavenly freedom
Like a prince with his crown.
When you hear the wind’s merry whistle,
Know that another broken heart flew off
Into blue infinities,
To obtain its angelic wings.
© Walter William Safar