We are poets, not yet dead
If you join us we'll be glad.

We are waiting for a chance
When we've got it in our hands.

We are waiting to be free
When the freedom's ours to be.

We are waiting for the storm
When the raindrops start to fall.

We've lost our friend, but not ourselves
We seize the day and break the cells
To live and not, when we came to die,
With sucked marrow of our life,
Discover that we had not lived.