Empty nuts they must avow
ravening for blood, real crow
real real sharp and sharper claw
caused my bleed, blood to bestow
But the moon never set-up in the sky
by naught bringing me back my wrath
investigating every alibi
and things I acquired and naught
grasping me more with every word
thy hath and throw as sword
soundless I so dumb, Indeed
Wrath still I, Never hath freed
Burgeon run fire within
in no time I'll be sinned
To put off fire, strengthen desire
to end up mine suffering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem