ther is nothing left
but cold and hate
a blackend heart
a miserable fate
for death is calling
calling my name
with a soft solmn whisper
he calls me away
I follow his voice
to get away from my pain
to escape the fate
the cold, the hate
so he takes my hand
guides me away from this life
and for once I feel
peace at mind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem