Ahhh the sweet taste of rope,
How easy it would be,
To sling a noose,
And hang from a tree.
The creaking rope,
The flailing feet,
The gutteral sounds,
My failing heartbeat.
The fading light,
The silent wood,
The slight breeze,
Stiring my hood.
The hanging man,
Dying in the rain.
He is happy now,
Free from all his pain.
The end of a life,
That seemed so bright,
But crashed and burned.
Ends on a cool summer night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem