the silent universe
where comets streak
still beckons me
as if the stars could speak
proclaiming all we know
of destiny
as slaves of tightly
shackled enmity
we would deceive ourselves
with murky pride
from every truth
that we have set aside
but some still hear
the cratered death of stars
that comes to reconcile
our earthy scars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem