Here on earth we are bound
To the earth the air and wind and love
To the heart of the mind.
But what of that fire that burn's inside?
Here where we stand at the edge
Here at the edge where millions try to
Find a way out.
Even a small mark
The small mark of death on them that you left
Back to you can be traced
If a conscience inside can be found.
Of all the thing's that you said just to
Hurt me
And thus in the knowing I feared
I was not glad nor was it pretty to see inside
You the damage it caused that completes you.
For every hour I live
sadly I speak now from you two are gone
Walk on the earth
and swim in the sea over your head birds can fly.
But inside of the fire the place that you live
Is a fire that will burn
All of those I was not glad nor pretty to see
What you lost in the trying to have.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very intricate Makes me think hard. I read it twice but I may have to read it thrice