I dreamt of ravens,
with milky green eyes
that stared,
and onyx plumage
glossy-sheened.
They watched me,
unblinking,
unhurried,
unreal.
My every step
trailing shadows,
shadows with wings,
with claws,
reeking of death
and of loss,
and of what never was
nor ever will
be.
And in the morning,
when I woke...
I knew it was true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem