In the dark room was my written writting clear without a perious light, i had the crying voice outside, saying good new of things occuring and things yet to occur.my eye's were wake with dark, and i had the prayer of their prayer's outside the dark, those prayer's are singing birds in an open shaltters.i was mad once but not for enternity, then was the devil outside the dark to the light and was afraid of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem