It's the coldest night
And the warmest blanket
You can come up with
Is tears woven from your eyes
You're at rock bottom
And only thing you have is
The darkness and the shovel;
You get digging
You're thinking of survival
But digging a grave
You think of tomorrow
But in her folds lies your corpse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well composed sad poem, dear Ma’am Angela...10+++