This quiet night I offer you a mystery
entwined in words of shade simplicity
echoing throughout vaults of history
I who am dead yet not dead hear silent
I who you knew yet never knew quiet
I who wrote but a breath yet never wrote
words are leaves blown by wind strings
life was but grains of sand in an hour glass
grey is timed stone dust etched into pores
This night I offer you a masked mystery
entwined in words of chisel design simplicity
echoing throughout vaults of estate history
Terence George Craddock (Afterglows Echoes Of Starlight)
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
''I who am dead yet not dead hear silent'' I'd try and Italian translation: ''Io che sono morto dentro ma non ancora morto ascolto in silenzio'' Cheers