Do not be flattered
Ever
A Figure horrid with a Scythe in hand
Waits at the Corner
First it scythes You
And with that
All your plans, things, empires fall
And
You will be relegated under ground
That is
Until the flame of Immortality that
Lights already
Flares and executes
The sacred task of having Immortality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem