Plummeting into his doom,
He confronts the blistering heat
Though his soul, it may consume
Without it, he’s incomplete
The magma sears his skin
As he suffocates on ashes
Though his pleasure, it just begins,
For the demon shall make gashes
He stands grimy and gritty,
Awaiting waves of torture
He’s a slave to this city,
And he breathes for these scorchers
He is smashed into brimstone
As the arsonist pours Hellfire
For these sins, he will atone
And this is his only desire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem