Within our lives we find a struggle, one that has no end,
And we are torn and tattered and beyond the help of friends.
Balanced on the razor’s edge, we walk a narrow road,
As we carry on the weight of an ever increasing load.
Watched by eyes of unseen faces, demons in the dark,
Wielding flaming swords and maces, a fire without a spark.
Somewhere on the other side, we hear the song bird sing,
Never knowing what the end of our perilous journey shall bring.
Yet the journey never ends, the peril never dies,
And somewhere down below us, we hear the demons’ cries.
It seems that we shall never see them, the father and his lamb,
And we shall never reach that land, from which we first began.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i Love this poem especially the part about the razors edge And all the demons and darkness you put into this you are a regular edgar allen poe