Frosted, frozen lake's winds...
Unbridled passions, unleashed, to all four corners of the world.
Galactic storms, blow forth torn, tattered remains...
A super Nova's blinding, bright.
Moon Crater's volcanic ash...
A spirited, wild comet's sudden-ed, streaking dash.
For freedom's march, upon many uncharted waters...
Will we drown in selfish, splendor-ed starters.
Occasional returns to, home based regrets...
Far too many, harbored secrets.
Hem and haw, the laughment tower...
Regail thy tales, of the hourly, power.
Restart the waves, of many, occasional stretches...
Relief from all those, many haggard, wretches.
Alas at last, the wake filled days...
Prepare as ye doth, fend off, and pray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That last word - PRAY