Vengeance drips from ire’s sharpened icicles,
Suspended from the frozen waterfall of anger
To drop, unwelcome on frail, unforgiven flesh
And freeze it senseless in a merciless embrace.
Yet, as the heat of retribution thaws the ice,
Spite’s stalactites lose tenuous, holdfast grip
And plunge from harmful hatred’s heinous heights
To spear their guiltless victim through the heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
bravo! great piece. very vivid imagery. a '10'