That glowing amber
beacon of contention.
Draws me to seas
of unquenchable thirst.
The Fifth let's me know
I'm on the wrong side
of oblivion.
I best be getting on
to that liquid burn;
That brown thunder that
sparks the fires of passions
not easily spoken of
in the daylight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem