Crimson trickles down the odd peach wall
hard wood, firm to inforce the fall
fumbling, reaching for the ever growing fountain
is stopped by crimson gushing from the twisted fountain
fading blues look into the far off hall
final rest curled in a helpless ball
liar my unsweet rest well
dont only say hello to the lillies but have fun in hell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
is it pellets or mag that cause the fall.