In front of the black wings, it is hidden:
Where skeletons and sweet dreams are made
A shelter sought in distant features above the sky.
Where dreams go up and fears submit.
Each stanza paints a picture of a story never told
In variations are truths shown, their symphony swells
'Here, ' spirits rise, said authors and the sounds they
disseminate:
When reflections dissipate, and tears rewrite.
May each of them burn from your heart.
Fighting doubt and going up further.
Take the rhyme, let suffering separate.
And repair the breakage of your heart.
Where murmurs are harsh, and the spectres prance
Seek courage to break out of every trace
For the "concupiscence" of this verse is your soul's decree,
A bird rose, to never encumbered confines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem