گیت کے بول کے نقاط
ENاصل بول
ترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
The open air
atop this mountain
welcomes my hungered voice
yet - in the echoes
of my indulgence
I hear a calling from below
silent cries
to my solitude profound
in too deep
there is no return
for the soul unbound
in too deep
I draw circles
sacred boundaries
around my desolate temple
blood is spilt
and thorns grow
on the path to liberty
eternally
in pain and rapture
I was summoned
and I was forced
yet - I willed it so
