I’ve denied harsh thruths,
swallowed sweet lies.
Lived halfway between
the land and skies.
I’ve walked the road of the vagrants,
and wandered the paths of the moon
I’ve watched misery bubbling
on a dirty coffee spoon.
The wind is whispering a mournful lament,
as the sun is laid to rest,
The happy hours have been snatched away
into a demons chest.
The battles been lost,
But noone can tell,
These aren’t heavens angels,
They’re the legions of hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem