I rest my head on the ground
Hypnotized by the blades of a ceiling fan
Hollow silence, a deafening sound
Escaping this life within a fantasy I ran
In a foreign place I stand
Surrounded by corpses and friendships
The fowl stench penetrating the dead land
By the shore of the Styx I await his Ship
Two golden coins
The dead man's toll
Where the Acheron and Styx adjoin
From the mist he comes to gather my soul
Charon and his ship full of dread
Crashing the shore making every wave roll
There I cross from living to dead
The heavy fog hiding what is ahead
Three, two, one
I arise from my trance
Two golden coins in my hands
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice, but I think you meant TRANCE instead of TRANS on the penultimate line.
Thank you, and I'll edit that.