Let it burn
Bring it down
Even as the world turns
Into empty, ashen ground.
Where nothing stirs
The worlds grown cold
And even while it burns
Spirits haunt their empty homes.
If the dead could talk
What would they say?
Look through the fog
And see what lay.
Or just give in
And light it up
Watch it end
And call it quits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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