A blanket gently casts itself out, muffling natures supple cries, as the world held it's breath, and emotion coursed her veins, feverish and unkempt she were, as obsolete thoughts vanished and dreams latched themselves to a vulnerable and unsightly mind. To be so cruel as dreams were, as they flee as fast and swift as insects to a naked flame, and leaving once again, an empty shell, brittle and broken, to be filled only by the contents of his heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem