The more I aged the more dread gripped.
Not that before
Not that before
But now
Now
Dread grips me by the throat
Dread grips me by the hand
Dread grips me all
Dread grips me
And in the ghastly twilight of a day that declines
drear draws slow yet sure
the curtain a delirium dark and night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem