A knife impales his chest
As he lays, bound, on a pile of wood
His blood covers the hands of his father
Flows and pools on the altar
Strained breaths escape his mouth
With the occasional cough of blood
A knife that killed a son
Whose wielder is rushed
With a confusion of agony and fidelity.
A test.
A reality prevented by an Angel of God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice - love the allusion