Apples that hung tempting
Garden filled with smokes
And hisses
Was it not filled with mists
But yesterday?
Towards a night where
Marches and drills of
Ghosts and shrouds
Alight the ways of the
Cemetery.
Apples that hung tempting
Garden filled with smokes
And hisses
Was it not filled with mists
But yesterday?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem