Shadows swamp the air with a blanket of fog,
Move mythical clouds from under the dark sky,
Fitting the past sleekly within crucifix memory,
Familiar faces buried long ago in the cemetery.
Nimbly stood stones erect as ruin pillar post,
Though names shimmer in glory halls of fame,
A sacred gathering in the future with the past,
Meet history looking for friends to rise again.
Spirits gather to watch at every funeral,
A world created to celebrated charm and wit,
Innumerable company possess the ethereal,
Our heroes walk slowly up into the dim light.
The rapture of delta forces multiply in the sky,
With the justly bless resurrected and translated,
Churned by the world but greeted in eternity,
And given the rewards joyfully anticipated.
The tears we shed can make our hearts frail,
In the afterlife; the spirits are gathering,
to celebrate the method that flesh can assail,
Until all humanity groans in woe be forgiven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem