you walk
in broken rhythm
through the shadows
of a dream.
under the curtain,
through the hole
you pass into
a nightmare.
you can't stop following
that tall hooded figure
till it stands still
pointing at your
grave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Spin chilling and to the point. Sorta Lewis Carrolish...I like it much!