A night forcing his will
On the way of a redressing day
Quickened my eyes to see
A particular planet aloof my way
Like our cold and lonely sphere
But clog with a league of darkness
No sun, no moon, but seldom stars
Which twinkle briefly in hypocrisy
Preoccupied, pleased by malice
Blind and deaf to the will of apology
The ruling for this world, is my worry,
On the day
His chest would sigh its last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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