The wind are finally changing, its battle on the ground,
Human flesh and meat, being torn piece by piece,
by the beastly hound.
The sun kisses goodbye, it’s the time to strike,
Back stabs and lashes, upon the mighty heart,
bleed red – mixing all alike.
The moon howls its darkness, for history is in make,
Gold, silver and souls, give out one last cry,
for all that is at stake.
Sirens and smoke clouds, the flags of peaceful white,
Intercourse with the blurry times, leaving the monsters to indulge,
in one last scrumptious bite.
In the midst of shimmering chaos, we know nothing got saved,
Bones and shattered victories, alike these heroes and cowards speak,
of how in death they caved.
But dawn is upon against it, cracking its hopeful joke,
Decaying and concealing, the story of how it all began,
in one cunning hellish stroke.
It’s the beginning of the end, a fresh page to write,
Or the end of the beginning, the silent walk to hell,
where your own demons fight?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem