The Bird stole my heart!
Sweet thief!
And now
My heart lies on the altar of sacrifice
Where deadly currents on each other roll
And round ice-berg corners sing the winds
That groan sterility and infertility
Whilst in the humus green dark by the grave
Thrives the pyre of fertile tragedies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thrives the pyre of fertile tragedy' Nicely justified.