Anybody there?          

Where are those woman of mysterious grace

like a scars from a wisdom we gain,

whose eyes kept wells of proverbial blaze

that will turn into poet's fame.

Where are the man of a glorious days,

the warriors of honour and truth.

The men that are moved in wondrous ways,

some ways that moves the youth.

Search-lights are fading

and we follow their pace.

And getting older as we learn to blame.

Sinking in silence

and we hate to change place,

only the children remain the same.

Where are horizons where travellers go

with pilots of freedom and goal,

where ship sail on while thunders roar

to pledge for immortal soul.

Where is the dragon who lived in the cave

whose heart by a made was thorn?

Those minstrel's songs that praise the brave

and times before we were born.

N. Fiser