Grey skies grumbled,
lightning whipped in delight.
Tortured souls whispered,
piercing his virgin ears.
The old man's can jingled,
wordlessly with hands out.
Fluorescent light grew dim,
as he walked into the dark.
He felt the force,
looked to the street corner.
Eyes - red as blood,
face transparent.
Without hesitation,
or fear of danger.
He paced slowly,
to the otherworldly figure.
Vermin danced feverishly,
across the damp street.
Parting to the side,
polarized by evil ambiance.
He stood face-to-face,
with his dreary master.
curiously watching, observing,
waiting for a challenge.
The aura glowed afar,
with a stroke of red.
Then disappearing in an instant,
leaving only a strange silhouette.
He clumsily falls off the curb,
as he comes to a realization.
That not just a moment ago,
he was looking at his reflection.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem