I so encountered Death one eve
an empty bottle lie in wait;
Temptation filled my empty glass
such bliss, I drank to fuel much hate.
A razor's edge had ran its course
along my face, beyond its lure;
My cheeks like rose, its thorns as sharp
the rum was fine, but had no cure.
Now shaved and ready for the end
my throat was clear within its path;
A dropp of blood was all it took
I raised my glass and felt its wrath.
Each jagged piece, an open door
now born again, I died...once more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem