Shall be one more gallery
A many scenes of purgatory
And this album be done
The last impress a disciple
Beneath cross that mounts
While his guides'- mocks
A throng tormented souls
Steals the backdrop
Delighting an amputation
Their inept doctor clamors pure
While strings, threads needles
And nurses -his, sparkles still
Silence come bane in moment
When say of vital- survival, death
His tools bear guilt not him- rings
But here in corridors fear
Strive yet whisper known
And hope a silence that aid hearing
In tombs are turnings, murmurs
That by dawn shall lose self
But dawn farther than now grasp
Along estrangement the truth
The crucifixion an innocent
And suicide my conscience
The veil of God is stripped
His breathe withdrawn
And throne bereaved me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem