You say the gods packed up and left,
stripped the trees of zinc and spit
green into the waters
Just before dusk folded into night.
The time of shadows - that mingle
and fall on themselves
Stealing hope from sky and men.
It's a dark future you speak of -
built on speculation and bitterness
Contingent on resurrection of the dead.
Slurring your way through sunrise,
I see you are glaring through a mad mans eye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem