The autumn breeze on a dusky night,
beholds the whispers,
of the dead, the dark,
the nature's slain arouse a fright
Among those still in strife,
In search of life,
Who dare to look beyond
the wail of the decayed,
the rumble of the yellow,
the calm of the shade
As they wait to rest,
to end their quest
The ones yet to shine,
still captive in their shrine,
will rouse from the tombs,
of the dead and the divine.
As nature takes again its course,
devoid of bliss, without remorse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem