As I cry the tears of blood, and sorrow builds up in the young. I tell a tale of living ones, to tell the truth, to tell a lie are all part of a lock. One in dept, one in open. All you need is the key to see. I'm he unnoticed poet in the dept of the world, buried beneath the fire and water, the worl. I am the lock with no key searching for a meaning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem