There the running sky
Black to die
Here's good bye
Roaring the sleeping stone
Noise till dawn
Either it's gone
Tusks are bleeding rose
Nightmare that goes
Like the feet without toes
Coming seeking soul
Take a black bowl
Then leave it fall
Stealing life from living
Blood without hurting
Fallen in dying
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem