Hanged;
Ceiling light,
Blooming bright flowers.
Beams of interstellar sight.
Travelling chains,
Holding tightly,
Ceiling to the ceiling light,
Flames of the devil;
The incarnate.
Shining, Shining,
Profusely; penetrating each
rotten; dying curtain,
In the mourning room.
And out from
The house of fire,
Came a red tint,
A blood hue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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