Yet even in the deepest of night, the dark
is never whole, cannot stop sight. The dark
Is broken in the vacuum by
albedo, that even in the slightest slight, the dark
is never pure. I close my ears and hear
at hint of moon, dogs howl to spite the dark.
With eyes wide shut, still I smell the angel
trumpet, shiver at the winds of wights. The dark
must pause at stroke of twelve to see
Its ebon song still hints of light. The dark
sees rock trick heaven, vector
to earth, conquer, in its briefest flight, the dark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem