The rain,
Just like the sour tears of my shadow.
Once again,
A spell is cast on me,
My shadow,
The figure in the dark,
The invisible in the light,
Follows me a thousand miles.
Never seen heaven,
Never heard of the angels.
I see the rain,
I see the clouds,
I see not the gentle soul behind the shadow.
Weeping like a lost child,
Sorrow’s sadness, settles through,
Deep, deep in the shadow of the dark.
Behind it,
A bleeding butterfly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem