The heart foretells
The omens, of our sight:
Seasoned trouble hides
By clouds at night.
The graves a killer
Knows not a single name;
Shadows stealing lives
And trading blame.
The moon alone is brave,
Above the fray:
He highlights every eye
With dreams of day.
Dec.28 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your twenty-five hundreth poem, amazing, simply amazing. Because they are all so good.