The wind that blows tonight, whispers like a ghost
Slipping through the fissures of the window
Fondling the skin of pagans that sleep sheltered by angels
Watching over their beauty, angels of death
Days and nights, time can only pass by
Roses grow in the desert, love goes for a present
Her eyes are shining like sun in the dusk
She puts a cold smile, bent with blood on the edge
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem