afoot the dark night comes moans beyond the count of grief.
dark clouds gather from the ashes beneath.
no songs sung to cheer this pale art.
no glories for the victors.
in bounties wide, grief twice as wide.
no peace for they conquered.
anguished bones seeking 2 find their souls a home.
the orange sun is stained, the blue skies pale.
the angels have fled 2 Rome.
middle earth is cold, dark n alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem