pretty soon you'll find it's the only little fear of yourself worth keeping together when two wolves must feed one another it doesn't help to say we've still got each other you count the stars like measured souls but night can't shade eyes from blind hunger my prayers claw through the clouds and other howls to praise my pale dying mother she sees my deeds and guides my brother I would trade last breaths than let you smother
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem