Take my bones, Kind Sir.
I am so very cold
And have no light for comfort.
I hear you, very close,
A thousand miles away.
A hands-breadth between
Life and where I am.
I cannot clasp your arm or knock,
Nor shout nor gasp.
I cannot find my child.
Can you feel me, Noble Sir?
Do you sense me burning still?
Will you hear me scream
With all the force of nothing?
The moon should crack
And the world's beasts go mad.
If you will only take my bones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem