life is a cold, numbened crypt.
Silent and Dark;
filled with Meaningless Thoughts;
filled with Empty Graves.
as the Corpses Return,
they begin to Mumble and Mutter.
the Air Vibrates with
a New Beginning.
the wind rushes past,
taking with it the
Stench
of
Death.
sweeping away the
Taste
of
Sorrow,
bringing in a
Shower
of
Light.
the Corpses Splash
in
the
Brilliant Puddles.
then the Graves are Filled,
and Silence Descends,
and Darkness Falls
back
to
the
ground
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem