I am here,
then eventually,
unconsciously,
I dissappear.
I see things out there,
Too far to have loved or dared,
Then I dropp off these never-ending stairs.
Pleasures of sweet,
disrupted by sour,
Rhythmic feet,
share their ease in the starlit hours.
We are afraid,
Of a mighty Tyrants hands,
But we haven't been alive to understand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem