Panic all around.
Dead bodies were bathing themselves,
Involve themselves in white shrouds,
Body, clothes, perfume sprayed,
Tur mountain burned soil - Kohl's colors, petals draw the eye.
They are all dead,
Lying in eternal rest,
Broke open the door of prison,
Every night - comes up from the grave,
Unpublished words - to express.
Auditorium them in my house
In their words - I'm writing a paper
Our meeting - is over in the morning.
Then, became busy - going every graveyard
Everyone goes back inside the tomb,
I just - from the out side
Every sunrise - making the door of tomb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow... It's a different touch! Like the poem.. Thanks dear poet
Welcome, and thank you dear :)