"We're beyond midnight now! And its
Clearness of what croaked and hooted
For contrast, hospitably.
The witching hour! Ghost-fogged Time-realm.
Where souls of the dead take on forms
Of cursed animality".
Those lost to my jest, and for friends
Those nearest my words, speak of sounds
They've not heard properly!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem