Let my blood run down my soiled hands
and my tainted soul be burned to ash.
For ever scorned in a life of sorrow
with lonely nights where dreams are smashed.
Never to hold a heart so dear,
keep love at bay and always near.
Let me die in my own self pity,
glazin amongst the lights of this city.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem