Way under, close to the underworld,
I lay my head, in a place dark and cold,
Where the echoes rove, and my clamor unreciprocated,
Where the walls have stains of my fingers so hated,
The gloomy air has the odor of my pain and throes,
The old bricked hallway has engraved the yoke of my row,
The darkness...is the darkness of my sins,
She is my only daylight in my meditation, so I write in pins,
My dungeon appears a shadowy black,
Cannot compare to my hearts crack,
Reflections of so many calamitys,
Lord will you amid my severitys,
She had been and is my flowers day splender,
It is not seen in the dark when I render,
My habitat, so unattractive, so misty and greyed,
When will I be trully loved, why do I feel betrayed,
When will light come, when will day shine in this place?
The day she tells me, that she loves me, so have me grace,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent write! ! A great poem! ! ! 10++