_A phone dies. Silence births night.
_He still breathes, gallant, unbroken.
_Shadows whisper of passage, mocking
_The King: hale, hearty, roaring still._
_They flee, clutching fragments of safety
_Questions echo: How? Miracle? Betrayal?
_Loot evaporates. Treachery laid bare.
_He roars—the King, shadows his crown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem