Make them stop
Those sounds penetrate
The very being of
My lies. There is nothing
To do, nothing to
Fight for, only deceptions
And martyrs. The nocturnal
effervescence hits the plane
Of light thus the flight ends
Abruptly killing sorrows and
Pitifulness. These sounds
Have made my world sing,
It has been tiresome yet
Here you are standing.
Oh, lonesome warrior. What a
Joy to have you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem