There are splendours that sway and strive,
A happy splendour it happens to be;
For the autumn is the song of loving,
And splendid weather is of the horizon.
My tombs are morbid and worthy,
My fence is huge and weighted
Like the walls of a new frenzy.
The walls within my mind are like the splendours
Outside the house, where knights are arrayed.
They want the justice to crumble and divide
Happinesses into halves and quarters.
These splendours last forever,
Even dark knights cannot remove the sights
Of a corpse in bliss and felicity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem