A drape with no arms to swing open
drenched in slowing knives thrown from set enemies
your deafened from the indigo charge
asleep in a veil of drool.
A movement streams in math
your forced coma grows in rows
dreaming of silent seas
alone in a frozen bow.
Waves of drooping signals
come weening off of froth
a ladder falls in a typhoon
which slows the glowing moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow very nice... makes me think a lot good job