Beware the dream that takes its time
That eats you up and burns like fire
That drags aimless, with you in chains
Fools you to thinking life can wait
One stealthy hand laid, it's considered sold
A mistake of youth is getting old
When the things you hide are those of worth
You pay in kind, a debt of sorts
One gift, to be unwrapped and revealed
By coward's pride, warped and concealed
That selfish breath you took to hold
Now one sad yarn you yearn be told
For when the heart's throat is gagged
Beats are smothered and warm blood trapped
The feelings do curdle, in time they rot
And fleeting are the spoken;
deadly, those which are not
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem