Death blooms ever so sacredly on my lifeless body.
I beckon for nature to run its course over my rotting corpse.
The perpetual flowers laid in my icy hands symbolize my vanished being;
They will live for a short time, then disappear over the course of life.
The heart that once was alive with the flow of existence,
Has now ceased to beat so lively in my inconsolable death.
The memories that consumed me, haunting and throbbing in my wounded mind,
Decisively ended my growing thought of spiraling, depressive existence.
Who am I now, but a forgotten corpse buried underneath the prospering earth?
Who am I now, but a horrid girl, who had no other thoughts but these?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awesome! ! though i will say tht parts of it remind me of p.b. Shelly's ode to the west wind...