and the sky turned red,
of course it was his heart.
It drowned in the blood he bled.
So he doesn't know where to start.
It wasn't what he had said,
rather that which he let depart.
He tosses and turns in bed.
The taste in his lips is tart.
For either, a tear will be shed,
and for one, a knife to the heart.
-Samuel Richard Leonard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Samuel. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks.