to gaze upon the night to come
thinking of our future, that has yet begun
to stare at the moon with a glance
thinking of our future, wherein we could dance
looking lifeless at the wooden door,
thinking of our future, what are we waiting for?
Dreaming of silence,
in the midst of a mental war
bleeding without guidance
to watch the Apocalypse from afar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem