Beyond earth angels were flying high
Zooming off into the sky,
Holding back the air
Until the voices of prayers cry.
Feeding hunger to survive,
When ghost ascend from the bed,
Leave memories in terminal strive,
Troubles cannot catch the dead.
All the movements are lost,
Worn out clothes beaten and toss,
In shapes of our wrinkled wrist,
The silhouette shadow is cast.
When the patrons are done,
Cleaning bare bone branches,
Big enough pile to burn in the sun,
There will be no trace left of the trees.
Surprise stone meet our gaze,
And shadows in darkness groan,
The latest fear of those that grieve
With troubles of their own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem