Of foam born offerings a requiem is sewn,
As the pillars of society slay our un-known champion
In what they claim as an honour of sacrificial circumstance.
Blown out of proportion, who knew? Who could have known?
That laid upon the alter stone they would find archaic angels bound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
awesome piece...i liked everything about this poem! great job! ! !