Harsh is the night,
Tender is for leaving.
Those gentle snapping strings,
When the sweet stop believing.
'Look', she said,
'Upon this face
Corruption holds no flaw'.
Tighten up, but just a touch,
And then a little more.
Till overwound, like clocksprings,
Slowly work our grinding teeth.
Then left alone, by night and day,
To loose that sweet belief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
great writing, cant wait to read more, steve