My writings plague solemn desires
dispatched within my grief,
waiting for my souls revival
as I sense the failing beams
above my head stars once bold,
now dying, fade in disbelief
yearning youthful combs of fire
extinguished while I sleep.
My words of love coldly covered
by the graveyards mossy dirt
embracing lips of favored lovers
as we lain in soft caress;
bites my savage tongues expression
has now sanctified the hurt
in my bed of weeds and clover
where no soft cheek warms my breast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem I enjoyed reading. A good write captain.