Lost in the brightest of beams.
Veins explode in the splendor of gold.
I observe an anthem of screams
As the sickening celebration unfolds.
The mortals begin to grow bold,
Dancing strangely across gorgeous fields.
Their stride causes death as they stroll.
Only to faceless phantoms, do they yield.
They halt for the phantoms and kneel
While spilling their radiant blood.
It spews from their mouths as they squeal.
Sound only exits in gurgling grunts.
It enters the apparitions like a flood.
While those dry corpses collapse through the earth.
Skies caressed by falling dead doves.
As the phantoms embrace their rebirth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem