My earth be gone like sand dust blew, away.
My hands be weighed like a ton in frozen, laid.
My eyes lose hope &
The twinkle in my pupil, be black so sad.
Lips converting blue and the roses fade
My legs tremble like a fish’s tale, dim.
Still, I wish id not lose you.
& you’re your marching hands
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem