Your body bleeds
as you feel tired & lifeless.
Weeping out tears of folks
You are groping lost!
You had imbibed poisons or dumped many boring dopes into the showers of their wounds
'It isn't the anger of your lovely fate,
Rather than feeling too cheerful in your bliss,
— A certain art, shadow Approach from the strings
Heatwave is sung elegantly in a musical scene of a golden smart pine sea of your innumerable darkness.
O within a luxe real ale! That zonked for many years in the deeply buried symphony,
Wines of black roses & pastoral coloured, squirming, vocalising in the troubadour's way, and playing until you are clogged!
O within a glass jar filled with the toasty Autumn, replete of the aura glowing muses, all fringed waves fluttering on the fuselage, the cheeks darkened ruddy;
As you guzzle and vanish unheeded,
but with hearts flee forever into the gloomy magical epitome:
Dilute, melt away, and completely disappear the gloom.
Everything you have ever glimpsed among all weedy souls,
As they listen to your deep sigh;
That the last couple, mournful colourless curls are shaken by dwarfism,
when beauty fades & faints, becoming colourless and eerie;
It's nothing but erotic 'SILENCE.'
that was wounded with Hawky Six Swords!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem