Here I sit waiting, staring out into the darkness.
Something is coming, ready to strike me
down at any given moment.
It moves with swiftness,
still I wait and stare out into the darkness.
I feel it coming; my impending doom;
and still I wait and stare.
What will become of me,
after this fatal attack.
The attack of my soul,
with no retribution;
surely I am damned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem