Black as ebony, dark as night.
When right seems wrong and wrong seems right.
Grey and tar and wisps of smoke,
on thoughts we muddle, on tears we choke.
The lines that shape our world will blur and shift,
imaginary bridges where there are rifts.
Disappear and begone, the truth now shows,
yet it brings not joys, but brings us woes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem