When night rushes in
and tightly presses
my fading eyes
and even the faithful wind
fails,
with breathless prayer
I will call you.
Your strong hand
will catch me as I fall
beyond my failures
beyond the
brutality
of my will,
down to my truest solitude
to the abyss
of the soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem