Sub-conscious to the bone
The well of echoes
Echoed
Echoed
Echoed
With a hundred caves
And coves
That was sub-conscious
I hear
Without stopping
The unceasing screams
Of echoes of
Wells and caves
And coves
And ghosts:
In vain I shut my ears
With my hands
The unceasing screams
Tire not nor
Pity take:
Sub-conscious to the bone
This was the preferred Way
The living
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem