Softly sleeping, echoes pounding minds in deep reveries,
awaiting the dawn of breaking with unkempt desires.
Nights blackened with soot of ages past, burned to cinders
and dust, blown throughout the dusk of life.
Begun again on other dimensions that we know nothing of,
calling out for truth and honesty of a past no longer
remembered, because the final dirge has been played and put
to sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem