Its probal fault, today from darknes to dark;
Unused my mouth, 'll neo life
No escaper to escape, no door to gise out
Will walk through, but not today, jump over, may not next.
Will I know, I had ensnare and to mourn
The phantom fence, oh! encave the world,
Who will know the phantom world;
This phantom mask, I fear if it be me.
The kindness note, among the farthest wind;
I know thou 'll hear, but to say 'don't hear its the noise of crows'
And I fear, the walk of two opposite;
And I fear thy paradise, but the hell.
No more to endure, the heat that yerk'd,
The heat o' the full lines;
I hear the dead sound, o' the own sound;
I watch the dead bones, o' the own bones.
An easy numbered, oh! the real man;
I 'm eager to feel, thy just note;
I clepe from thy reside, unknown where thou cogging;
But I 've a will, we atone, at the kindred point.
Shall I clepe'st thee, shall I flag'st thee;
Sound'st thy sound, thou the just'st man;
Truth clepe'st thee to inurn, the phantom scrimers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
watching the dead bones. I like it. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.