My heart beats heavy and faint.
my head pulsates with the feel of a fresh loss.
The loss of a mind played by an orchestra of senses.
With a neck craneing to rest
on a hollow chest to listen to slow droning beats.
How keen my senses sit
like hawkes nesting on the branches of my body
diving and swooning to nourrish
the roots of my soul.
The grass lands are barren.
How fear has sparked a blaze
reducing the once prosperous land to black dust
looked upon from above
with a sincere fear of the future and the unknown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem