May the screams echo. After that
The silence will stumble like a whipped wild horse;
A moment pilled inside the throat
Overpowers the yowl and endless wind
That whimpers down the roads of land we are condemned to
In a deaf room, in a deaf night, by deaf ears
The scream in my throat is anchored
To the howling whisper.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The thought of wind whimpering down roads we are condemned to brought thoughts of Edgar Allan Poe but silence stumbling like a whipped wild horse was unique and strangely stirring in a way that was riveting....10