Something breaks down in the clock.
It seems the time doesn’t move at all.
My heart is turned in to a painful rock.
My wife’s face is white as a wall.
Our little daughter is in a surgery room,
It’s not a clock – our lives don’t move,
We don’t see how outside summer blooms
I feel how the tear cuts on my cheek a deep groove.
We are sure, that everything will be fine,
We just don’t have another choice.
I am screaming inside: ‘’God, please, save the daughter of mine’’
And I hear the same being asked by my wife’s voice.