To the century is trust of sadism,
Toy the balloon of trust and faith,
Been the beauty, been agnosticism,
A religion has born from a wraith.
To the millennium is madness,
An anxious feeling all-encompassing,
Like the moors to ride and find sadness,
Even in the light of the trespassing.
My days and nights are numbered,
Forever, we wait in duels and afterward.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem