So be it.
That Way Suffering consummated be
In the path and lines of the Slow:
For Suffering increases in the Slow proportional.
Bleak
Bleak
Bleak
The anguished Soul pines as night falls
Trees freeze
Ah! those in the cemetery
Amidst the speechless, soundless
Lullaby of graves and tombs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem