Sometimes quite never not
it is thus cold I shiver shake
as did he mornful soul
of old.
Parchment of my flesh
words my clothing
binding of my mind
haunt me not.
Shelved at the doors
of your finger tips
eyes windows in
the cover.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
fantastic unique imaginary and rare terms, with it is deep theme and messages, thanks again 10