Misty hue, a white dry dew morn....
Merry, in the mist of the dark blue dawn...
Moist kept at bay, rest in the sea...
And make the scorch of warm dry ghost flee..
Dry tentacles, grasp in my skin, the lone dead..
Sucking the humid flow of bliss in my head..
Flow from the north to the hinder east..
Dark vacuum singing in harmonious feast..
Sing me ooh...sing the melody..
Make me whole, ghostly chords of rhapsody..
Scaling drought, play me the flute..
In the awakening embers of the brute..
Eat now, oh soul, rest on the stones..
Laid for the brave, skull and bones..
Relish in memories, adorned with mysteries..
Of heroes, slain on hills and thrones..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem