our days expire
and all our ashes below
a dull yet ruthless fire
are not so strange from snow
our life is shallow
our slumber is deep
thoughts, dark as night doth follow
where sorrow is not stilled by sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Days expire ashes remain below. Death is very deep sleep. An amazing poem is beautifully penned and this is brilliant...10