This Failure hung from Death's noose;
Hooked and severed, thank his deuce
Highly strung Like Cupid's bow
Pale skin shone, a reddened glow
Once a shrouded-Mind like arabesque
Now nothing more, but statuesque
His life to dark for the Sun to sheer
A silent scream, a whispered jeer
To Three the pendulum slowly swings
a final gasp as rope-tight wrings...
His time is up, the clock struck twelve
Another grave that'll be deeply delved
Happiness never escaped its rift...
Yet people sifted his life as gift
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem