I see the deceased
in the cold dark street
and one by one
they pass me by
like passers bye
who fell from the sky
they loom with purple gazes
while their glass glooms
seem lost in asking glazes
with on their lips
their long lost phrases
they all seem to deny
that they knew life
and rather ask Me why. M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem