The carpet of my dreams,
My vociferous desires shining.
Ravish from the abyss of glean,
Sad, though they are mine.
Dreams of smelling zenith,
The perpetual nector miles beneath.
Left me in middle of stygian,
Accumulated with wrath of eon.
The taste of diaphanous pleasure,
The obscure anecdotes of veiled treasure.
Made me salivate for taboo artefacts,
For vague portrayal of incognito facts.
The zenith with thorns,
left my skin bleeding.
Wondering for damaged cover,
Struggling wih hiccuping fins.
Though the dream was pricky,
Rendering wrath and perpetual pain.
The hope of mirth with ravish shine,
I'm happy, they are mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem