The lonesome street, dark and old,

and  the  winter wind, cruel and cold

But I walk yet I hope,

the forlorn hope,

In this not known world,

Still your memory is a safe home.

I stand and  yet I dare,

The mad  storm around and inside,

And I don’t care

I walk the strange street

And still your memory is a safe home.

I reach the cross road,


I see more streets

Lonesome, dark and old

But full of strangers

Full of crowd, scatter all around

This still is an unknown world

And I am still walking, with the forlorn hope

The old street But not strange any more

Still your memory is  a safe home.