In the dark hour
Of your soul,
When midnight's memories
Flare and hold,
And there's a storm
Massed on your pillow,
And your eyes
Are deeply sallow,
Rest.
Breathe in.
Our wrongs and rights
Fill days and nights
With silhouettes
Of what might be,
Or once was.
Life's rack
Is laced with phantoms.
Awakened,
We embrace the light,
And share the struggles
Of the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem