' One is dead, but not forgotten.
A name lived on when the body is rotten'
This is the rhyme that has been whirling
In my head. Night after night.
As I toss and turn in my bed.
As I toss my head
I feel the movement of
The undead opera
Under my feet
As the black harvest moon arises
The tossing and turning get worse.
I sense the hot breath on the back of my neck
Faster, faster they run
I feel blood dripping in the corner of my mouth
Please who ever you are
Unlift these eyelids
I do not want to feel the
Blood any more
I do not want to feel your rath
Any longer...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
SPOOKY poem of a dream