You are waiting
amid fears. The fretting
does not end.
At where,
the road ends? To find a blue star
where do we go?
The house was
sleeping in fog. Inside the
dome, hooves, quiver.
I have to become
mute. Time was black,
my song blue.
A pure crime.
The vultures come in
cloaks to take away the lamb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A bit strong, but i like it. It seems to tell me of a lot of emotion thrown about. But i like the way the poem s written in