Like the sinful cry,
Of a disflowered maiden,
a maiden head torn,
And the veil of shame restored.
Like the voice of defeat,
A warriors doom,
Shame creeps away glory,
shadows of history.
Like a poet dread,
Empty ink and torn sheet,
Void of lines,
Empty of music.
As a baby born with death,
Child of procreation,
Now brings mortality,
Painful edorado!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
that was pretty sweet