Languid, Lucid, Liquid Scream
Softly crumbling ecstacy
Deaths unyielding glare
The view a blur of sky and branch
Perchance to start again?
Will I draw comfort from memory?
All the scattered seeds of youth
Well-intentioned, misspent, or otherwise
They all take root
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem