The cave was dark and dank,
Dripping water slowly, rhythmicly
Dripped down the slime, oozed stalactite,
Into in to the pool of frezing, stagment water,
Ecoing in the dim, shadowey cave,
Reflecting a yellow-ish golden light,
Elominating even the shadeist corners of this dismel cave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem