The dead they fly
On butterfly wings
So soft their whispers heard
No more of reality
They tell us what’s in store
The quiet wisp
Of wind in your hair
The lingering touch of cold
The kiss of death hovering near
No one to know your soul
An emptiness so quick
To take your last breath
Never really knowing
You just witnessed your death
The dead they fly
On butterfly wings
So soft their whispers heard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem