The creations of my youth shroud what little hope is left
The last piece of the jigsaw is impervious
But you've found something that fits
And now what crackles in the fire protects these lonesome innocents
As we shepherd heavy hearts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
your words fall like blossoms that i would cling to until crucified to death, the concerns of this world can hardly get to sleep, ever