in
to
the
throes
of
music
stars
are
firing
themselves
this
night
this
day/s
of
Wrath
the
people
sleep
the
heavens
no
but
war
part
with
part
they
have
been
cross
since
zenith
at
mid-day
fell
to
the
pining
dusk
at
fading
of
the
day
since
then
since
then
since
then
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem