One night upon times of old
Stood a blackened, rusty lamp
Blackened, decayed on a broken ramp
A dim light, a thrust to the cold.
The arms of light widely embrace
The wooden bench on where I lie
Beneath the light where I die
Still it's shamed in disgrace.
An watchtower over the Old City
And its descendant into the abyss
Eyewitness to the rape of its mistress
As it weeps with an eyeful of pity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem