The winter-cold, stone-like sound of the choir
is echoing in the cathedral. I hear the
petal-soft voices rise and fall like the
tide on the shores of Eden. I look
at the candle-lit colours of the
windows, I dream of praying like
a pilgrim in a pew. I picture the
singers standing in robes, I
ogle the Gothic-gold glimmer of
the altar. The night surrounds me -
but the requiem has led me to
the marble-bright throne room of Heaven.
And then the song ceases and
I open my eyes. I'm distracted
by the neon blue blinking of a sign.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem