The stars are fading in your forlorn eyes.
Distances are becoming more pronounced.
Wounded universes are now dying.
Love's golden sun and moon have turned blood red.
Bridges are burning between great cities
Of flesh. The softly floating monuments
Of memory have become hardened and black.
Flowers are stranded on the isle of doubt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem