Dark, black blindness,
So I may view nothing
Of the rose on the sill
Episodic shots of street-light
Make features of a face,
Senses dampened madness
In mirages of blackness,
Eclipsed on grayed matter,
Collected in crazed shadows,
Thoughts are my secrets
Tears are mine alone.
Church bells in distant song
Call to my memory tombstone,
In eviled deviled undertones
That whisper as I sleep.
Which tombstone turns?
In the peril of my hearts call
To speak to haunt,
To mock my weakness,
Tomorrow I fear.
The haunting of my
Memory tombstone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loved to read it, Rita! !