A Grim curling fog shrouds the ground
round spired canyons, nestled moored
while jagged peaks casts chthonic sounds
on high and hither black skies horde
Mount charging bolts and fusillades
in thunders cacophonous grey din
Resounds down in the dark arcade
To mingle with the sibyls hymns
Obscene rites, in an ancient tongue
That casts forth to the sacred flame
when elder once were still so young
and magic reigned and was still tamed
no sane man comes to this domain
unless he bids to meet his grave
In the valley, the graveyard grows
of many ghosts in stellar ships
not by age, or poor captains show
but whispered lure of sirens lips
who bring them down from ruined skies
to perish on gravities shores
those few whom make it to survive
arrive in terror at perditions doors
eternal tempests casts her gloom
and crowns itself at heavens doom
On near mounds of horizons edge
Is the keep of desperate harbor
A gothic rose, of stone and sledge
that's houses a neurosurgeon barber
But beware what lurks inside the cellar
A patchwork corpse and evil brain
For this house caters monster dwellers
and you who are welcomed as insane
Beware these dark worlds, ominous
or meet the arms of Morpheus
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For this house caters monster dwellers....true and perfect dear poet.