Another nightmare passed,
The moon showed grim and pale,
Strong winds dropped and rain ceased,
Sibilant waves on the beach.
Ragged curtain of clouds,
Whirled away by the wind,
Ghost voices of the storm,
Are swallowed by the sea.
Fierce fanatic triumph,
Seen in one’s bloodshot eyes,
Plunged in the undergrowth,
Singing with high, cracked voice.
It’s the aftermath song,
For many houses blown,
Nameless refuse scattered,
And for some unknown deaths.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem