Night without a word
doors are left unlock, so breath can
Have it way, Without fusing with dew.
Night doesn't believe in long awaiting memories we all keep, even when our dreams were said to be loyal.
We all look distress and tend to be
an alien; wondering in an unknown land,
The sky looks beautiful when we bleed for more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
in the bleeding at night of life is very alone!