I fear the night
When my mind is embalm'd with heightened hauntings
Of my childhood, studies and feelings:
I grab a cup of water, easing with fright.
Fret and rile
My eyes are filled with bile
For all nature, a madding tie
And those who harry terra to feel merry
Cackling with dimpled-cheeks,
Our souls mating amid agony
Of our conscience and of the ethereal creeks.
I speak not of everyone
But everyone born from a crimson-filled foetus forlorn;
Lo! E'en Christ took to be born.
My melancholy is of women
Their painful labour and vapid tears
Like those with chaste mien
I'll speak, and let all list'n with ears.
(03-01-AD2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem