Twilight's last gleamings:
The vultures are hovering.
Time is receding.
Deep blue descents into madness;
Western codes broken;
Digitals are deciphered;
Sound bite scatterings.
Future shock: these constant waves
Of vague, fractured speech
Cannot be redeemed. Love is
Merely a cypher.
Symbols are dead: Year Zero.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem