Awe, the holy dwindled light,
bewildered by the affliction of sight.
As dreary as the counting of beat,
of all the passing strangered feet.
Calm affliction does thus cross my eyes,
from a hazed vision of passerbys.
i hear no loving song of comfort fate,
nor miraculous visions of a life to elate.
The fading bright now seeming so long,
takes its time like an orchastrated song.
With chills growing thurough; so steady strong,
in this desolate spot for my body to belong.
Where shall too limbs grow stiff,
frozen to stone like an ancient hieroglyph.
where bone can begin anew as surface,
aching again, only too find new purpose.
Beyond the reach and gentle shout of help,
the world gives no worry; for it shall bore itself another whelp.
Nor do those beings crossing my fray,
those unlovingly human,
I stringentlly lay,
as the mouth of death comes to collect me for its rumen.
And through each compartment I shall stray,
broken down and processed away.
break hither from light and darkness glooming,
all pains breached now,
and its all deaths doing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem