She walks in shadowed deep despair,
Of darker things, in demon lair,
And of the lost, she reigns supreme,
Crown of thorns for the tortured queen.
They pierce the air as it's torn between,
Thundering clamoring of lost unseen,
One shadow gray near reflected sky,
Has risen above miles high,
And yet this might mountain made quake,
For in despair and sadness deepest roots shake,
Where tortured queen lived in another day,
Before earth had turned so gray,
When a smile was a thing she new,
Back when her sky was blue,
And on her check, the tears fall free,
Weeping, dying for love not to be,
The lost love of a setting sun,
Morning for days long done.
The rose stems from flowers he once gave, have made her crown,
Bloody despair for love she had felt profound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem