In this darkest our am I
what meanders far away
deep from within
there crawls a sin
a lust to stay
but i justify
my depart
anyway.
I am not senile
am not vile
a coward no
but I miss
some tenderness
and braveness
of my own.
Looking for a faun
of love i frown
and look up above
into lives crown
am i a clown
in disguise
surprise
me then,
sunrise
surmise.
If it lies there
a broken vein
can not prepare
for the storm
of all pain
that's to come
seeking home
forming the
stones,
abalones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem