Across the lake,
dead looking for me,
cries buried alive;
this grave can't hold me.
I waited long;
Lord show me the way:
Hold my hand,
you will be released,
child soon will it end;
rise of dead.
The trumpet roaring,
army of dead conquering,
sky showering flames:
A judgement declared,
The revenge of dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem