The crimson river overflows
To drown a cold and heartless blade
What when the victim deals the blows
To suffocate her shame with pain?
The welcome poison clouds her mind
But cannot still her trembling hand
The culprit of a deed- the kind
That further shames her with its brand
The flame can smolder much too soon
When her own heart and flesh fall prey
'My tears can only salt the wounds'
But this blood thirst drives her insane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Probably only less than twenty percent of the poetry I read on this site is worth revisiting, but this definitely is worth revisiting and pondering. It was a pleasant surprise finding this poem.