Black is the night sky
the colour of an adult fly.
Black is a cloud of hail
Black is the writing, written on the mail
Black can be many things
things that are big, things that are small
Black are the snakes,
that slowly, very slowly crawl
Black is all around us,
it’s even in our eyes
Black is the colour,
When your death arrives
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
as marvin says is true..life may b filled with rainbows and glee but in the end it's just black and bleak..~hazel