My feet are walking round on creaky floors,
And the cool autumn mist surrounds them.
My mind is closed to open doors,
And the life that follow behind them.
Now in this fragile substance of my soul,
Something seems to stir and awaken,
Its presence making me whole,
I am no longer mistaken.
I can't see a thing, but I am not afraid,
The world it seems at long forgotten peace,
For in misleading fog my life is made,
And I start my slow decease.
The piercing screaming that was once my own,
Has disappeared unto an unknown throne.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Zoe this is fantastic from the opening line right through to the closing line. I particularly love the lines 'For in misleading fog my life is made, And i start my slow decease.' It's such an emotional and deep piece and I think it's wonderful.