Dead things lie dreaming,
And you smell the stench of rot.
You look down, into the water,
And what you see makes your blood clot.
A murky hand reaches up,
From the depths of madness;
All your hidden fears well up,
At the sight of this awful sadness.
Somehow, contained within that hand,
Lies nothing but pain and death,
Yet the voices cry, they sing to you,
Of the wonders of a man's last breath,
His final, aching heartbeats,
He cries out in despair,
And for some strange reason,
You watch with a hungry stare.
You stand for what seems like hours,
Eyes fixed on that dreadful claw,
When finally, you reach down,
And rip the appendage off.
A screaming silence greets you;
A buzzing hum appears:
And deep below the water,
Red eyes wait and fear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem