Hearts play in embers down by parched sounds,
Trying to illuminate—hush.
They dance in the fire by the shoreline that’s dry,
Such a wonderful color—blush.
Soft music is falling from a sky that has vanished,
Any genre is heard—oh my.
In ears that they pass, a different production rolls by,
And the hearts cannot bare it—oh why?
Hearts run in fear waning down the dry shoreline,
Trying to escape—but the fire.
They burst and they bleed, ablaze like the sun,
Music just killed them—what a liar.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem