Lays open a ruin, more;
Its ghastly aspect.
A life, this light too. Crumbling,
Wretched inside; with its legs for
Old pillars, stumbling
To fall, blind drunk. Unto
Its own stone-dead state.
Lone-left, and as stark, forgot
Sinister, insidious
A moon-shone grave-plot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem