Grieving minds upon the path
Fleeing the fires that breach the hearth
Pushed on by those that nip at the heel
Not redeemed by love or saved by steel
Owed by anger cut by death
Heard upon every final breath
Whispered on the air of the night
Depleted by the woe of spite
Those grieving minds shall not implode
As long as they can walk the road
With encroaching fires you'll long for the flood
And hope it stems the flow of blood
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem