A bell tolls in the big black glow.
A river filled with lost dreams and hopes.
There is no feeling but a lost soul.
The is end, the final stage.
The surroundings crumble, broken with age.
There is no map to find this place, unless you get on that cold black train.
Look into your soul to find the name, it's nothing less than, death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem