Lose not thyself
In the void of apathy
That swallows
Thy feelings whole,
And hungers
For the hearts of men
To hunt and stalk
Thy soul.
For the withering
Into the pale grey
Of love consumed
And dead,
Shall fall unto
That anguished state
Of soulless taint
And writhing dread.
Yet, the hope once there
To rise above
To grace the hand
Of virtue fair
Shall wander forever
without heart
Near the shores of dreams
And follied starts
Nor will they ever walk
in the forgiving light
to see the shine of day
But always in their agony
In that pale grey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem