"Begone, my love, " He whispers with flimsy tears.
Oh what a girl he could love more.
She walks a mellow, ghostly walk
Towards his moonlit half-dead corpse.
"EURYDICE! " He screams.
Eyes shut and tight, he knows he shall never look.
He glares down; what a cold, glanced, shallow glare.
Would you be as hollow if you were his wife?
She whispers towards his mind,
Manipulates her shadow, twists his veins.
"I was never gone, love." she silently whisper-screams;
And she disappears, never to come back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awsome.